Unholy Order
by Caseychu
Summary: Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits. In a land of legends, Angels and Demons wage a bloody war with humans caught in between. As Kharg battles with his troubled emotions, he must help restore order before a great evil engulfs their worlds. -Twincest-
1. Prologue: In Search of Truth

Unholy Order

By: Magenta Fox

Prologue: In Search of Truth

Warnings beforehand: This fic is bound to offend a LOT of people. "M/M and F/F and M/F pairings?!" If it none of that offends you, keep going. "It's Darc/Kharg?!" Can't you get past that, too? If you can, congratulations and I hope you enjoy my fic. If not, turn away now. Flames will not be tolerated when this was all laid out before you before the fic even started.

Things you need to know: This takes place a year later after the whole Lord of the Black Abyss fight. I have created a new continent that is small, so it is undiscovered and only rumored really. Deimos and humans live there as well. Lillia will not appear is this, save one occasion. I hate her with every ounce of my being and if she spent too much time in my fic, I'd most likely drop a piano on her.

(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)

The horde of colored angels gathered around the cold, steel platforms, chanting for public execution even though the judgment had already been passed. From the step to the left came their princess, her pale, purplish-pink face hidden by her light-brown hair, gloved hands bound by black cord behind her back tugging nervously at the deep purple silk of her gown. She was being pushed from behind by two enormous male angels, each colored blue like the water and holding spears in case she found a way to retaliate. Her violet eyes tried to hold back the tears that threatened to overtake her, for she didn't want to be there, facing punishment for something she didn't believe was wrong.

From the right came her less-than-defeated accomplice, a taller woman who struggled until they were forced to pick her up and carry her to the altar. Her arms were bound by the same blessed cord that promised to keep her magic at bay and her long, black claws away from the guards. The red material at her legs ruffled noisily as she kicked about furiously, screaming promises of death and where she'd put their weapons. Her crimson eyes burned with anger, surrounded by her dark-blue eyelids and the red linear markings that curved under them.

The two young women were thrown roughly against opposite sides of the steel altar and quickly bound to it by another cord around their necks. The second girl had calmed down by then, forced to face the reality of what was about to happen to them. She looked up at the other and narrowed her eyes. "Don't give them the satisfaction of your tears," she growled, her voice low and scratchy.

"I don't want to die," the other confessed, barely able to hold on to control of her voice.

"You won't. I won't let you."

"Keyana…"

The first set of guards pulled on the princess's pure, white angel wings, dousing the soft feathers in a strong-smelling liquid that made the women cough. Keyana soon found her massive bat wings being given the same treatment. Both tried to retract their wings out of reflex, but they were quickly pulled out to full span and coated. When the torches were finally removed from their golden stands, the crowd went wild with cheers as if a victory had been won for them. Two guards stood behind the prisoners, holy torches in hand and not an ounce of hesitation in their hearts.

"They won't get away with this, Lain," Keyana promised, staring right into those violet eyes in an attempt to shift her focus away from the heat she could feel mere inches from her wings.

Lain, on the other hand, wanted what she thought to be her last words to have more meaning. "I love you…"

(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)

Very few things in life were absolutely true. Almost any supposedly definite statement could be argued if a person with an "illogical" standpoint was raised in a different manner. No matter what, there would have to be someone somewhere that could feed the desires of a person or people, allowing them to live in a hazy world of acceptance that let them be who they were.

That life seemed blissful to Kharg at that moment. As he trekked through the Forest of the Hidden Ship he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to fight off the bitter night's chill. He would have loved to have gone during the day, but the outside of the Cave of Truth had become a tourist attraction for those seeking answers, even if entrance was forbidden due to the Spirit Servants that still haunted the place. The last thing he felt he needed was a group of admirers wondering why he was there.

'I should have know this wouldn't be a good idea,' he thought, his nerves getting the better of him. His footsteps slowed until they finally grew silent. 'I should turn back…'

He didn't even get the change to turn around before the light wind picked up, blowing against his back as if to push him forward. He glared at it as if it were a person before picking up his pace again, clutching himself even tighter as his teeth began to chatter. When the entrance was finally in sight, he breathed a sigh of relief and bolted for it, hoping the inside was any degree warmer than the forest.

Surprisingly, the cave was a lot warmer, both physically and spiritually, and Kharg felt a more at ease once he was inside. It still wasn't enough to unwind the knots in his stomach, but it was a start. As he approached the stone doorway to the main chamber, he suddenly felt unbearably wrong, like his mere presence there was defiling the sacred memory of his parents. He grasped for the mark on his arm, but quickly pulled away as if he'd been stung or burned. Everything on, around and in Kharg reminded him of what was troubling him so much, what could make him leave Yewbell without a word and recharged Big Owl just to get to where he was then. His life was a constant reminder of how much he didn't understand about his own heart.

"Are you a Chosen One?"

Kharg drew his sword, prepared to fend off the mythical monsters the voices of the spirits' usually sent after those who wished to enter. "Yes."

"You are… a Wind Child. You may enter."

"What?" Kharg responded, eyes widening slightly as the stone doorway began to rise to allow him access to the Hope Spirit's cavern. When he didn't receive a response, the only option he was left with was going forward, as much as his heart felt it couldn't handle any answer it was given once inside.

Much to the boy's surprise, the Spirit of Hope was already waiting for him, floating about its shimmering pool, a knowing smile gracing its cherubic face. It had been a little over a year since he'd visited this place for the first time, the goal of killing the man he _thought_ killed his mother taking over his mind until it almost blinded him. He could have laughed at how ironic fate was, looking back on how he first came here to kill his brother, and though the reasons were altered, it was still his brother who brought him back here. Only this time, he was alone, confused, and completely lost.

"You have returned alone and with a troubled heart," the spirit noticed, gesturing for him to step closer. "Come, I am glad you came."

"Why was I let in so easily?" Kharg asked, taking a few step closer. "Why not test me?"

"You've already been tested. No sense in testing you twice," it explained, looking down at the boy with a suddenly serious expression. "I don't have time to waste with sending servants after you. I need your help."

"I could say the same to you…"

The spirit continued on as if it had ignored him completely. "I need your help to save the world from destruction again."

"But the humans and Deimos are working toward peace," he argued.

"I do not speak of your lands. I speak of lands your feet have not marked with your footprints. In a far-off land, a small continent by the name of Soluna, a great, dark evil threatens to destroy everything there. If this were to reach across the oceans that protect you, it could lead to a war like no other."

"Soluna?! You mean it's real? I thought it was a place my mother made up."

"It's often mentioned in stories as 'The Land Were Angels and Demons Wage War,'" the Spirit of Hope explained. "In reality, it can be found in the ocean between Epistia and Aldrow."

"But what can I do to stop a war? I'm nobody there. And what about Yewbell and everywhere else? I can just leave when we're all on such shaky ground."

"If you cannot stop this evil from spreading, you will have _no_ ground to stand on."

Kharg reached up for his birthmark again, but didn't even get his fingertips to it before his made the hand into a fist at his side. "It's that big of a threat, huh?"

"Take the other Chosen One with you and go see for yourself."

His nails dug into his palm as he tightened his fist in reaction to the order, thinking of how much he dreaded the times when Darc invaded his thoughts and how much he doubted he could handle the trip alone. The dirty, iniquitous feeling crept through him again. 'It's your brother,' he had to keep telling himself, repeating the simple statement like some soothing mantra. "Why… him?"

"He is the other chosen one; your other half."

Kharg closed his eyes and winced at the term, shaking his head at the notion. Then again, wasn't that what he was dealing with? Wasn't it the feeling of incompletion that was driving him there, even if fate was pushing him in a whole new direction? Even so, he disliked the idea of going alone. "Just him?"

"It's better that way," the Spirit reasoned. "If you go with a large group you may complicate matters you know nothing about. Your heart carries thoughts of him that you do not understand. Solitude to face your fears, that's what you need."

"But can't you tell me something, _anything_ to help me understand?!" Kharg asked, almost pleading as he noticed the Spirit of Hope descending back into the waters.

"In love there is no truth," it replied, shaking its bell-staff as a wave goodbye, "Only knowing."

Kharg grasped onto the edge of the pool as the shadow finally dematerialized, his futile shouting echoing off the vacant stone walls that surrounded him. "What does that mean? Knowing what? Come back!" His wide eyes stayed fixed on that iridescent surface for an unknown amount of time before he fell down to his knees, his fingers still gripping the edge. He pressed his forehead between his whitening knuckles and tried to hold everything in, tried to tie it down and suppress it with every ounce of energy in him. He tried… but failed.

"Damn it!"


	2. Chapter 1: Setting Out, Again

Unholy Order

By: Magenta Fox

Ch 1: Setting Out, Again

My pathetic rambling for the day: Nyah, I'm kinda down cause I know very few people will read this, but maybe I should try doing that whole "writing for me" thing everyone's been talking about. ::shrugs:: Anywho, as planned and then ordered, Darc shall finally be appearing. ::cheers::

Kharg had disliked his first visit to Drakyrnia and every other visit that followed. The death of a grandfather he'd never met forced him to reflect upon his brother's world and how much it differed from his. As he walked through the quiet, stone streets, watching Drakyr fly about, he was always hit with the realization that these were, in part, his people. If any city forced him to fess up to his Deimos heritage, it was Drakyrnia.

The death of their grandfather gave way to Darc becoming the Drakyr leader, which placed him, of course, at the highest point in the city. By then the Drakyr knew who Kharg was, and though they showed him no animosity, the disgust that one of their own looked so human (even more human that Darc, who at least had horns, scales, claws and fangs) showed plainly in their glares that stabbed him in the back as he passed. Every other time he'd shown up, there'd been a reason and therefore he'd been expected. This time, however, he'd simply shown up and strolled through their city as if he were one of them, as much as he certainly didn't feel like he belonged.

Upon seeing that the doorway to Darc's chamber unguarded, Kharg attempted to look as self-assured as possible while his heart was racing faster and faster with every step. He took a deep breath, not even daring to exhale as he padded lightly through the doorway. He expect the usual, irritated-sounding "What?" he was usually greeted with, but found, instead, a rather comical scene playing out before him. It seemed Darc had fallen asleep in some rickety, old wooden chair in the corner of the room.

"I get all worked up about seeing you and you go and do this?" Kharg asked the sleeping form of his brother, shaking his head with a bit of amusement in his voice. He walked over and knelt next Darc, who was sitting as is he were paying attention to someone speaking to him, save for the fact that his head was slumped onto his right shoulder and his mouth was hanging open. This image of Darc was much less threatening, almost innocent.

Kharg lost track of how long his was staring at Darc before those crimson eyes fluttered up suddenly, full of a surprisingly vulnerable fear that made both of them back away as far as they could go.

"What are you doing here?" Darc shouted, clutching his chest that, since their battle with the Lord of the Black Abyss, lacked the armor he'd worn before.

Kharg, on the other hand, was too shocked to speak. After a few rapid blinks he swallowed and attempted to regain his composure, idly playing with his bangs as he usually did when someone was staring at him while awaiting their answer. The other was doing just that, staring with such intensity that he didn't even know he possessed. Kharg always hated the way his brother stared more through him than at him. It always unnerved him.

"Well?"

"I went to the Cave of Truth," he spit out without thinking, trying to offer some sort of reply before Darc dismissed him.

"So that's where you were," the Drakyr leader realized, crossing his arms. "That Paulette girl sent me a frantic letter whining about how she couldn't find you. Next time, warn your girlfriend that you're leaving before she starts pestering me about it."

"She's not my girlfriend," he rebuked, clenching his fist a bit. "And I couldn't tell her I was leaving. It was sort of a whim; I didn't plan on any of this."

Darc sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, leaning his elbow onto the arm rest and his cheek into his open palm. He looked ready to fall back asleep. "So why are you here instead of back in Yewbell? We don't have anything to discuss and I didn't plan on seeing you."

A smile graced Kharg features. "Sorry I interrupted your nap time. I'll try to plan my surprise visits better next time."

"I'm not in the mood for it, Kharg," Darc snapped, altering his brother's attitude in an instant. "Just explain yourself."

"Yeah, about that…" he started weakly. "When I got to the Cave of Truth, the Spirit of Hope was waiting for me. There's something going on that we need to… it wasn't exactly clear. We have to go to Soluna together, and fast."

"Kharg, the Spirits gave their lives to seal away the Lord of the Black Abyss and Soluna is a fairy-tale island in stories for children," Darc reminded him, his tone condescending and patronizing.

"I… I'm wondering that myself. I didn't go there to talk to anything; I went to be alone for a while. The Spirit of Hope was just floating there, waiting for me, and the moment I got in, it started explaining everything. Before I even got a chance to ask it anything, it disappeared. As far as Soluna… it said Soluna was real. You know that land mass between Epistia and Aldrow that can't be reached by boat because of all the jagged rock masses? I think that's it."

"You _think_? A dead Spirit appears from nowhere and blathers something about a make-believe continent and you're willing to leave when we're still trying to rebuild after losing them? Did you ever think to ask it how it could possible be alive?"

"No, okay, I didn't. Either way, the Spirit of Hope really made it seem like this was a do or die situation. I don't like the circumstances either, but if we don't go, apparently the war existing there will break out on our continents, too. If it isn't lying, I don't want to risk it. Do you?"

"And how do you expect a country we can't even find could possibly pose a threat to us?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense to me either." Kharg's eyes shifted to the floor, staring blankly at the stone under his boots. "It said you and I should leave alone, together, as soon as possible."

Even if Kharg had been looking up, he probably still wouldn't have noticed the slight twitch of the other's eyebrow in response to that statement. "Why alone?"

"We're not going there to fight, just see what's going on. I'm not looking forward to it any more than you do, but I have people that I love that I'm out to protect. I'd gladly give my life for them, so a simple journey to Soluna isn't going to deter me."

"Tck, you humans and your never-ending rants about love. Watch your own back for once."

"I am. Do you think I want us to get thrown into some war with the state we're in now? We've lost the Spirits, our energy source and our magic. What good would we be against any army of angels and demons?"

"_If_ they even are what inhabits that place."

Kharg sighed loudly and turned around so that his back was too his brother. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn? What will it take to get you to come with me?"

"You wouldn't do it."

He looked back a bit but didn't turn around. "Try me."

"Fine. I'll go with you if you promise me that when we get back, you'll give me a rematch. One far away from Lillia."

Under different circumstances, Kharg would have laughed at the part added at the end, but the request left him to ponder over whether he would be willing to go through with it. He didn't doubt his skills, for it was Darc's magic that would have given him the upper hand in battle. He'd since lost that, and his sword swings were both erratic and ungraceful. Years of training had forged Kharg into a much better combatant, though his feeling had a tendency of getting in the way when he knew his opponent.

"Deal," he agreed, turning around and extending his hand.

"What is with you humans and shaking hands all the time?" Darc wondered, staring at the outstretched hand before him.

"Would you rather I hug you?" Kharg asked flatly.

"That's quite alright."

They shook on the deal, staring each other dead in the eye even after they let go. Darc was the first to break the uneasy silence, establishing that he had every intention of calling the shots for this mission. "We'll take the Pyron there tomorrow morning. Until then I suggest you stock up on anything you think you'll need."

"And where do you expect me to stay until then?"

"You're not far from Yewbell. Why don't you tell them you're leaving before you go?"

There was no reply, and both could feel the uneasy tension in the air. Darc leaned in a little too close for the other's comfort and raised and eyebrow at this new and odd behavior. "What's with you lately? You've never acted this reckless before."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he answered, having no need to elaborate his problems any further. "And after leaving Yewbell like that, I feel like a fugitive or something. I'm not ready to go back just yet. At least not until I understand more about the reason why I left in the first place."

"Whatever," Darc dismissed, walking toward the room's exit. "You're free to stay in my quarters. I'll get someone to get your situated for the night."

Kharg paused for a moment before the words registered completely. "What? Wait! Why yours?" It was too late, however, as the Drakyr leader was already giving orders to the Deimos who was returning to his guard post. Suddenly, the young man felt very uncomfortable with the entire arrangement. Yewbell was beginning to seem more and more like a better idea.

Darc motioned for Kharg to follow the Drakyr man as he turned wordlessly and headed in another direction for a purpose unknown to his brother. Just as silently, Kharg followed his leader until he reached the bottom of the grey, stone staircase.

"I'll take over from here," a weak, aged voice offered from behind them.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be out of bed, Sagan."

The aged Drakyr hobbled into view, his wrinkled face wearing a displeased scowl. "I'm perfectly fine. Let my take the boy to Lord Darc's chambers."

With a defeated sigh the Drakyr man left Kharg to follow the wise elder the rest of the way.

"I don't like the way they treat you with their stares," Sagan established, tucking his hands together behind his back as he strolled on slowly. "Despite your looks, they should have more reverence for one who shares the blood of our leaders. If we were more tied to the rules and customs of our ancestors, you'd be ruling at his side if the Dragon Spirit deemed you fit."

For lack of anything intelligible to say in response, Kharg feigns understanding and nodded, even though Sagan couldn't see. Of all the Drakyr, Darc not included, Sagan was the only man would be show him an ounce of kindness. In fact, the old man was almost humanly friendly toward him, and Kharg wondered why. He wasn't in the mood to question it, however, with the plethora of questions he'd already piled up in mind beginning to make him feel heavy with burden.

"Where will Darc sleep if I'm in his quarters?" he couldn't help but wonder aloud when the doorway was in sight.

"Lord Darc hasn't been sleeping much these days, so he doesn't even go near his room."

"Why doesn't he sleep?"

"He says he hates what he sees when he closes his eyes. All I know is he wakes up with such a scream that it rouses me from my sleep. Eventually he stopped trying, so whenever he does get to sleep we just leave him alone. But here you are."

"Thank you," Kharg spoke genuinely. He slipped into the room and slept into the next day. When he awoke early the next morning, Darc had returned to his sword and armor and was waiting to leading him to the Haystir Marsh. From there they'd begin a journey that would change them both in ways they'd never imagined.


	3. Chapter 2: Revelation

Unholy Order

By: Magenta Fox (OMMFG, that's so totally me!)

Chapter 2: Revelation

Author notes of psychotic weirdness: Ah, have I fucked with Kharg's mind enough? HA! No way! No, now I must make him feel just a wee bit more worse and uncomfortable, just you watch?. (Gah, is messing with me scene dividers again! (-) is change of scene.)

(-)When they had first arrived at Haystir Marsh, Kharg most certainly hadn't expected a speeding ball of fire to come barreling toward them, and had almost mistaken it for a monster. It bypassed him, however, and made a mad dash straight to Darc, knocking him back and nuzzling him like an impatient lap-dog. After hearing what Kharg had a hard time believing was something akin to laughter, the mythical creature floated off its master ad awaited instructions while looking at both boys with confusion.

"We're really going to ride _this_ thing?" he asked skeptically.

"I figure it's our best chance. Pyrons are mythical creatures," Darc explained, uncharacteristically petting the creature on the head as it waved all eight of its arms happily. "If anything knows where to find a mythical continent?"

"But how do we?fit??" he wondered, pacing around it a few times.

Darc ignored him in favor of addressing the Pyron. "Do you know where Soluna is?" In response, the fabled 'Hero of the Skies' flipped back in the air and clapped excitedly. Both took it as a 'yes.' "Then take us there, quickly."

Seemingly full of excited energy, it took off into the sky, leaving a yellowish-orange streak in its wake.

"Ah? did that thing just-"

"Wait a second," Darc interrupted, his eyes fixed on the sky. Within moments they were standing before a gigantic and extremely cheerful Pyron that held out its hands like welcoming seats.

"You're kidding me?" Kharg breathed in amazement. "We just sit in its hands?"

"It's safer and smarter than your airship," the other brother argued, hoisting himself into position. "How did you get that thing to fly without Spirit Stones, anyways?"

Kharg tentatively pulled himself into one of those claws as he replied, "We've been learning to utilize and old form of energy called oil. It seems to have been collecting underground over the period of time we didn't use it in favor of Spirit St- AH!"

Without warning, the Pyron took off into the air, issuing a shocked yell from its first-time passenger. Kharg quickly tried to right himself, bringing up his legs to tuck underneath him so he could sit back, but soon found that position uncomfortable as he opted for the stability of being on his hands and knees, looking out over the blur of land and clouds beneath him.

"This is amazing!" he called to his brother, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind as he scanned the horizon.

"We're going to be quick about this, " Darc avowed, bringing down his brother's temporarily good mood in a heartbeat. "Is that understood?"

"Didn't I already agree to that? I want to get home quickly just as much as you do. We _both_ have a load of responsibly on our shoulders, not just you." For a moment, Kharg had to wonder if they could ever go two seconds without arguing.

In truth, it wasn't that hard, because all that they had to do was remain silent for as long as they wanted to go without coming to blows about something. After a good two hour stretch of awkwardness and discomfort, Kharg allowed his mind to wander in an attempt to keep himself occupied. He tilted his head and caught a glimpse of Darc (for to be caught staring would not have been in his best interest at the time), bringing his thoughts to center on his brother once again. He took in his features in that instant, leading himself to wonder what his actual age was, as his face looked roughed by time and experience and yet his eyes seemed to still hold some degree of childishness that made him seem closer to Kharg's age. Darc had said once that it'd been 17 years since he'd seen him, and he himself was 17 at the time. The only way for that to be possible was if Darc was his older brother, which wouldn't have surprised him all that much.

"Darc," he said the first time, his voice so low that it was quickly carried off by the rushing wind. He always had a problem saying his brother's name, except in times of extreme tension or anger. In polite conversation, whether with Darc himself or another person, Kharg would usually find some other sort of classifier or pronoun to replace it. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Darc!"

"What?"

Every time he said that it made Kharg not want to go on with what he was saying. It always came with an annoyed tone that knocked Kharg back a bit. Still, he continued on. "You're older than me, right?"

"How am I supposed to know what time we were born?" the other snapped back, giving Kharg a look as if to call him stupid with his mere expression.

"What does time have to do with it?"

The look on Darc's face would have been priceless had the conversation not called for more seriousness. He chose his words carefully and made his point obvious. "We're twins."

Kharg nearly tipped right off the Pyron. "Wh-we-WHAT?!"

"How could you not know that?"

"I didn't know I even _had_ a brother until _after _Mother died!" he argued in his defense. Getting into the habit of calling her mother was based on a decision he'd made when left to ponder whether he should address her as 'my mother' or 'our mother.' "I mean, I look nothing like you, so I have difficulty thinking of you as my brother, let alone my? twin?" In truth, it was the extreme differences in their physical appearance and personalities that helped Kharg to feel more comfortable about his indecipherable feelings. In a way, he could almost deny Darc was even related to him, just as he denied everything else these days.

The strange new awareness brought on an almost heavy feeling in the boy. He felt dizzy from all the realizations, knowing full-well that there were, most likely, many more to come as time passed. What else was his mother hiding from him? What was his brother hiding from him? What was he hiding from himself?

"What the??"

The confused and shocked tone in his? twin's? voice was enough to snap Kharg from his perplexing thoughts and make him notice his surroundings. It seemed that in the Northeast there was a bright city built tall amongst the peaks of a mountain range, while in the Southwest there was a dark and shadowy city that appeared to be built into a large crater, giving the illusion that it was buried. Between the two contrasting cities lay forests and small villages, the whole continent surrounded by tall, jagged rocks along its shores. This was, indeed, the supposedly mythical land of Soluna.

Their arrival wasn't what was holding Darc's attention, however, and he gave the Pyron instructions to get closer to something going on underneath them. Deep within both of them, in the Deimos instincts that ran through their blood, the brothers could hear something calling out to them, telling them that it was of dire importance that they find something there?

?or maybe, someone.

(-)(-)(-)As soon as Keyana awoke she wished for her own death, the pain seeping into her small, altered frame being enough to render her immobile. She could feel the burnt flesh on her back cracking and bleeding with every labored breath, probably getting infected due to her inability to clean it off. The Serifins had emptied her Charge Gauge anyways, so even if she knew a healing spell she wouldn't be able to cast it. They'd also stripped her of all her items and accessories, very much intending for her to die in the wretched human forest where they had dumped her.

A sliver of violet out of the corner of her eye brought Keyana's thoughts immediately off her pain as she forced herself up onto straightened arms. She dragged herself weakly over to the mass of deep purple fabric, collapsing on top of it when her nerves screamed for her to stop forcing her now-ruined skeletal system to work.

"L-Lain??"

No response.

She brought her arm around the princess's even paler pink body and felt around for her wrist, pulling her closer as she checked for a pulse.

No pulse.

"Lain!"

She forced herself back up as she rolled the girl onto her wounded back, not noticing that the more absorbent feathers has set a blaze large enough to burn from the Angel's neck to her lower back. Clawed hands ignored their sharpness and frantically pressed against Lain's neck, finding no pulse and leaving a thin wounds that barely bled.

"You're not dead," she insisted hysterically. "I told you I wouldn't let you die. Don't?don't you dare turn me into a liar!"

Violet eyes remained closed, and the girl's body didn't stir an inch.

"No?you can't do this to me," Keyana breathed, her chest tightening. "Not you, too. You were all I had left. You said you loved me. Is this? love??" The last word was spat out vehemently, as if it stung when spoken. She was so consumed by her disbelieving grief that she didn't hear the slightly murmur of conversation or the tread of boots.

"Woah, I ain't ever seen one of them Hell Spawns without wings before."

The Morkeeth woman turned her hatred-filled eyes on to the band of all-too-familiar bandits, the will to fight dead within her. It would be a horrible way to die, but all of her internal and external pain could finally be over, and so she simply allowed herself to slump over her beloved's dead body and thought of how tragic and romantic Lain would find the situation? had she lived to know about it.

"Looks like she's tryin' ta protect that Serifin."

"Never thought I'd live ta see that."

She didn't even look at them as they approached her, choosing instead to squeeze her eyes shut and wait for everything to end. The entire moment became surreal as she could hear the slight clink of the weight shifting in one of their swords and see the bright reflection of sunlight off steel as it shone onto the side of her face. Her life seemed to flash by in blurs in her mind, allowing her to let go of the fear of death she'd been harboring. 'What do I have left to live for?' she had to ask herself, knowing the answer was nothing.

And then there is was, the sound of someone having the wind knocked out of them. It was followed by a further away, low-pitched voice that felt as if it were getting closer to her. "You jumped off the Pyron?!"

"They were about to kill them!" a much closer, clearer voice called back, followed by the sounds of fast footwork and weapons being knocked out of hands. Even if she had wanted to see, Keyana had begun to slip in and out of consciousness, and could barely keep herself focused on the sounds or blurs around her as everything finally faded to black. She swore she saw a warm, bright light, but she was soon pulled away from it against her will, putting up a fight she would not win.


	4. Chapter 3: Reflection

Unholy Order  
  
By: Magenta Fox  
  
Chapter 3: Reflection  
  
I just got the Arc the Lad soundtrack in the mail, and it makes me wanna write like no one's business. I am so into this story. And my work load isn't that bad... yet...  
  
(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)  
  
By the time Darc dismounted the Pyron, Kharg was already dusting off his hands as if he'd just done Spring cleaning. "You always have to play hero don't you?"  
  
"It's been a while," Kharg reasoned, flashing the same smile that used to get him out of chores and punishments as a child. "And I left them with enough strength to flee."  
  
"Heh, you sound like a Deimos."  
  
"From you, I'd take that as a compliment."  
  
Darc's eyes narrowed for a moment before he looked over at the two girls that lay motionless on the grass before them. After taking a few steps, he was already surprised by what a closer inspection yielded.  
  
"Deimos."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They're wounded Deimos," he reiterated, kneeling down beside them. Kharg soon followed, checking the tan one for a pulse.  
  
"She's still alive, barely." He reached down to the woman she was guarding, his face paling as he resisted the urge to drop her wrist in fear. "She's...not..."  
  
"Leave."  
  
The order was so short, sharp and unexpected that Kharg nearly fell back when the word hit his ears. "What do you mean? We can't leave them here."  
  
Darc didn't look at him, simply replying, "I told you to leave. I'm staying."  
  
A pale hand rested gently on his unarmed shoulder. "What are you-"  
  
Before the question could ever be finished, Darc swatted the offending hand off of him and stood up with his back to his brother. Clenching both his fists, he fought, for some unknown reason, to keep his voice steady and free of it usual biting tone. "You wouldn't understand, so just go wait for me at whatever town is closest. By the time I'm done here and I get on the Pyron, I'll be able to meet you when you get there."  
  
For a moment, Kharg simply stared at his brother's armored back, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him or if Darc was really shaking slightly. He turn around, but didn't move forward after. "She's coming with us, right?"  
  
"I have Herbs. I can heal her."  
  
That wasn't an answer to his question. "She's coming with us. Even if she doesn't want to, we can't leave her out here alone."  
  
"Just go!" Darc finally snapped, turning around in time to see his twin flinch slightly. Kharg would not allow himself to run away, however, and walked away with calm, calculated steps.  
  
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There had been countless times where Darc had witnessed the swiftness of an Herb's healing power. They could restore the heath of a dying ally in mere seconds. Why then, he had to wonder, did it take an hour before the girl finally regained consciousness? He was about ready to fall asleep when he heard the girl stir an moan a bit, watching quietly as she looked around for the body she'd had in her arms when she passed out.  
  
"I buried her," he finally stated, standing up from the rock he'd been sitting on as he monitored her health.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice low and scratchy, much like most female Deimos voices were. She was, however, one of the most human-looking Deimos he'd ever seen, as well as the girl he had buried. The one before him was very different in structure though, her skin covered in jagged, symmetrical, scarlet markings. Her face was also rather unique, for her wider chin narrow eyes gave her a rather androgynous look. "I didn't want your help. You should have left me there to die."  
  
He ignored her ingratitude and motioned to a dark area of forest behind her. "You should say goodbye before we have to leave. I have someone waiting for me in whatever town there is when you get out of this place."  
  
"Excuse me?" she spoke with a sneer. "I'm not going anywhere with you. And how dare you even touch her body? If anyone was to bury her, it'd... it'd be..." She stopped for a second and brought her hand up to her chest as if she were having difficulty breathing. It was the first time Darc noticed how long and sharp her think, black nails were. She tried to take a step forward and stumbled, having never walked without her gigantic and heavy wings. "Is this what I've become now?" she wondered, wincing at the pain still shooting through her back. "Some pathetic little girl who can't survive on her own? Who can't protect anything?" Her fiery red eyes turned to him, full of anger and despair that he knew all too well. "Leave me alone. I never asked for your help."  
  
"That doesn't work very well for me," he replied, taking a step toward her. "I'm not in the mood to play little puzzle games to try and figure out what's going on in this place. You're obviously from here, so you must have some sort of information I can use."  
  
Turning around sharply, the woman attempted to walk away from him, as if turning her back to him could make him disappear. In all truth, it was the only possible way she would have been able to get away from him with her skeletal structure as altered as it was. Using her imbalance to his advantage, Darc quickly got in front of her, noting how short she was compared to him. If he had to guess right then, he wouldn't peg her at anything too far about five feet tall.  
  
"That girl you lost, you were close to her," he assumed, staring down at her.  
  
"Shut up. I am not in the mood to listen to you pretend to know how I feel," she snapped, trying to push past him toward where he said Lain's grave was. If she didn't get away from him soon, she was afraid of what her embarrassing emotions would lead her to.  
  
"That's a stupid assumption," he commented, allowing her to walk past him. "But I do know how you feel. You want revenge, don't you?"  
  
The sound of her retreating footsteps abruptly stopped.  
  
"You want to get back at the people who did that to her. You want to kill them with your own hands. But especially in the state you're in now, you can't do it alone."  
  
An soft, unexpected laugh rang from the woman's lips as she brought her right palm to rest on her hip. "I thought you didn't have time for games."  
  
"Are you saying this is a game?"  
  
She didn't offer a reply.  
  
"Go say your goodbyes, and think long and hard about the decision you're about to make. If, when you come back, you still won't come with me, then I'll leave you alone here to rot for as long as you want."  
  
The sound of footsteps against the grass picked up again, followed but the parting of brush that would lead her to the grave. Though he knew it to be wrong, Darc followed her silently, curious as to why, in a "Land Where Angels and Demons Wage War," a Demon would morn for an Angel's death.  
  
(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)  
  
By the time Darc caught up with her, the wounded girl was staring blankly at the hastily made grave. The scene was too familiar for him, but he stayed and listened to her goodbye, hidden safely behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree.  
  
"I'm sorry this isn't royal treatment, but I will not let them touch you. Not ever again. Those bastards don't know the first thing about the real you. They only see you as their princess, and now, as some wretched sinner."  
  
Though his expression didn't show it, Darc felt as if this strange demon-woman was echoing the words from inside his mind. For a moment, he wanted to run, but felt his feet frozen as he strained to hear her more clearly. Everything was too similar, and his mind had played out this fictional scenario enough times that he didn't need to listen to Keyana's rendition.  
  
I know this isn't the grave that those idiots and Yewbell wanted for you, but I don't care. You never liked being treated like a prince anyway...  
  
"I told you I wouldn't let you die..."  
  
You said you wouldn't die on me...  
  
"I thought that I could keep you here, with me, forever. After the death of my parents, after being enslaved by your people, after finally being brought to you... after all that, you still leave me, too. It this... my destiny?"  
  
You knew you were all I had left. With our parents gone, who else is left for me in this world? Now even you have left me. Is this to be my fate?  
  
"You said you loved me, damn it! Is this how you prove it?" she yelled, dropping to her knees and pounding her palms into the ground when her sharp claws made making a fist impossible. "I never even got to say it back! I never even got to kiss you!" She growled deep in her throat and slammed her hands down upon the ground again. "He'll pay for it, I swear on your very grave that I will make sure he suffers for what he did to us. I will not allow your death to be meaningless. If it takes the very last drop of blood from my body, I will give your name honor." The tone in her voice changed, suddenly, sounding softer and almost happy. "You said you wanted to see me fly once we escaped that Hell-hole of a Heaven, and someday you will. I'll find some way to get back my wings, and I'll fly as close to the sky as I can. Just..." her voice cracked and faltered a bit as she swallowed a lump forming in her throat, "...just wait for me, alright?"  
  
Sensing the finishing tone in her voice, Darc started out back to the clearing where he was supposed to be waiting, hating the fact that he wanted to get to the village as soon as possible. 


	5. Chapter 4: Parallel

I finally finished chapter 4 of Unholy Order.

lj-cut text"Chapter 4" 

Unholy Order

By: Who dat? Dat be Magenta Fox, yo!

Chapter 4: Parallel

AN: Good, this is all coming together the way I want. And don't worry about any of my OC's being Mary Sues. If you're not already seeing some, their flaws will come through soon enough. Full force. Also, I apologize for the delay, but look how long it is!

(-) (-) (-)

After futile attempts to slow down his pace, shorten his steps and offer to carry his wounded companion, Darc finally gave up and began a system of walking ahead of her, stopping, and waiting. The entire process only served as a reminder that she was a weak, defenseless burden, and had no choice but to follow someone else if she ever wanted to survive. She was supposed to be a leader...

"Are you ever going to tell me your name?" Darc asked her as she caught up with him. "Or your race's name?"

"Keyana," she spoke, staring at the ground as she walked. "My people are called Morkeeth. I expect you'll be courteous enough to answer the same."

"Darc," he told her, deciding to lie a bit on the second question. "I'm a Drakyr."

"I've read that name in books, but I've never seen one. Morkeethes, Serifins and Humans basically in habit this place. Few other races of Deimos exist here."

Darc couldn't help but smile. She was finally offering up the information he needed.

"Your people fight the Serifins?" he guessed, putting up with the uncomfortably slow pace in favor of continuing the discussion.

"They call us 'The Creatures That Crawled Out Of Hell,'" she explained, lifting her chin and facing forward again. "For years now they've considered it their duty from God to fight us and send us back to the pits of Hell they think we came from. They believe they evolved from humans, not monsters, and therefore have the right to do whatever they please with all the 'lower beings' of the world."

Humans that evolved into Deimos? Not only did Darc not understand the concept, he didn't understand why it would give a race a superiority complex. Still, he was in a place completely isolated from his world, and therefore any school of thought was possible. "I take it you don't agree."

"Of course not. For years they've been slaughtering my people, and for the past few months they've had me locked up as their slave just to humiliate me. They...they burned off my wings. They killed their own princess. They're monsters, not angels."

"That girl you were with, she was the Serifin princess?" he asked her, finding her story hard to swallow all at once.

"Yes... but she always hated the title. She never wanted to be a princess. She just wanted... she didn't want to be their princess." Keyana suddenly shifted directions with the conversation, unexpectedly hitting Darc with the question, "Who have you buried?"

"Excuse me?"

"You look at me as if you know. As if you have buried people yourself," she told him, staring up into his eyes as she stumbled along beside him. "You can't expect me to stand here and give without receiving."

Crimson eyes shifted to the surrounding trees, listening as his footsteps began producing a high-pitched, squishing noise. He'd arrive at the Pyron soon, and he'd be able to get out of the woods. He contemplated ignoring her question and waiting until they reached the mythical creature, as childish as he knew it was.

"Your lover, maybe?" she guessed, knowing she was wrong, yet wanting to strike up some sort of need for correction within him.

It worked.

"No, I didn't bury my lover," he snapped, thinking Keyana needed to mind her own business before reminding himself he wasn't in Aldrow anymore. Snorting, he gave in and answered her question shortly without facing her. "My parents."

The demon-woman offered no response, choosing instead to walk alongside her rescuer in pained silence until breaking it once again, this time with another seemingly random question. "What's its name?"

"What's what's name?" he wondered, looking down at her.

"Your Pyron," she answered, bringing her right hand up to point in the direction of the creature snacking on the green growths of the marshlands.

"You know what a Pyron is?"

"Of course I do. Humans have been using them to fly for ages. Come to think of it, I've never met a wingless Deimos before."

Darc had toyed with the idea of explaining his dual heredity (or the shame of having his wings torn off), but found himself unwilling to expose his sideshow freak genetics to someone who believed his blood was that of a pure Deimos. This desire was also the reason why he wouldn't explain that Kharg was his brother. When the two met, she was bound to ask questions.

"Serifin armor is built to accommodate winged combatants," she explained, walking ahead of him and eying the Pyron. The creature looked back and forth between the two, confused as to why the tall, blue-clad boy had been exchanged for this short girl in dark clothing. It circled her, poking its long nose into her long, coarse, black hair. "Can I help you?" she asked it flatly.

"I think I confused it."

"With my hair?" she wondered sarcastically, lightly swatting the Pyron away from her.

"No, I arrived on this island with someone else," he clarified. "It probably doesn't understand why you aren't Kharg."

In response to the name, the Pyron twirled about excitedly and clapped its hands.

"Is she yours?"

Darc had never known the gender of his pet, but answered anyways, "Yes, of course it is."

"Then is Kharg your wife's name?"

The question caught Darc so off guard that he nearly tipped backward in shock, his eyes widening of their own accord. If Lain had been there, she'd have called the expression "adorable," a word non-existent in Keyana's vocabulary before her imprisonment. After having the meaning explained to her, she was confused as to how the word could be used to describe her, but Lain brushed it off by saying, "I see it, and that's all that matters."

"No, he's not my wife," Darc corrected with a forced steadiness.

"Oh I'm sorry, your husband."

As the Pyron flew off to grow again, he stared down at his companion, searching her expression for any signs that she was acting up on purpose to get a reaction out of him. The look that greeted his close inspection was stern, serious and unwavering, meaning she thought she wasn't doing a single thing out of the ordinary.

"He's a human I'm traveling with, nothing more. Why would you ever ask such a question?"

When the Pyron landed before them, Keyana answered his questions, but did not move toward the creature. "Pyrons are deeply connected to those who raise them. It's excited to see Kharg because you want to see him, whether you know it or not."

Shoving the idea aside, Darc climbed into one of the outstretched hands and waited for Keyana to do the same. She simply stood there, however, scowling at the ground and gritting her fanged teeth together loudly.

"Do you expect an invitation?" he asked sharply, impatience already having worn down his nerves.

"No, but in case you haven't noticed, you nitwit, I can barely walk. Do you think I can climb into that thing's hand? My oh my you sure are dense."

"And you have rude way of asking for help," he replied, jumping off the Pyron and walking toward the girl. Before she could protest he bent over and pressed his forearm against her stomach, scooping her up easily and carrying her to where he needed her to be.

"What are you doing? Put me down," she protested, not flailing or pushing due to the pain she knew would rip through her the moment she tried.

After jumping up into the creature's claw, he carefully placed her on its palm and jumped off without a word. She mumbled a bitter and rough "Thank you," before Darc gave the Pyron instruction to rise.

"What's the nearest town from here if you're headed in that direction?" he asked, pointing to the horizon in the direction that Kharg took.

"Midsia. It's a human town. They won't mind you, but Morkeeth and Serifins are as good as dead if they step into human territory."

After gratefully finding that Soluna currency was no different then the gold pieces he carried, Darc purchased a long, black, hooded robe and walked back to the outskirts of the town.

"What did they say?"

"That I didn't need a to hide what I was, as long as I wasn't one of those Deimos." After years of discrimination, he found it hard to believe those words were spoken to him.

Keyana let out a slight laugh before sliding into the robe and flipping up the hood. "Without wings, people will probably just assume I'm some old hermit."

As the sun set, the two walked slowly back to the town of Midsia, a small entertainment village to the southwest of Serifin territory that stood divided into three sections; shopping, theater and residential. Figuring Kharg would be looking at armor or weaponry, Darc followed the signs through the residential area where they'd entered and headed toward the various shops and stalls that lined the shopping district. He found no sign of his brother, however, and the people there said they'd seen him before the sun began to set, but hadn't seen him since.

The theater district was rapidly becoming a busier place as the sun set, throngs of people pouring in to check the location and times of the shows they wanted to see that night. It was in front of one of these posters that they finally located Kharg, who didn't even hear his name called as he stared, blocking the others' view of what held his attention so well. It wasn't until a shadow swept over the poster that Kharg finally tore his concentration away from it and turned to face his brother and a small, hooded figure.

"Oh, you convinced her to come," he realized happily. "That's good."

"What have you been staring at?' Darc asked, turning to the picture of a blonde-haired young woman.

"It says here her name's Ortena," Kharg explained.

"Like Lillia's instrument?"

"Yeah, exactly the same spelling. Thing it is also says she has 'a voice that makes the wind dance.' I asked around and the villagers said that when she sings, the wind blows as if it's dancing for her. I think we should check it out."

The sudden sound of tearing paper abruptly halted the conversation. Keyana swung her hand around and scratched at the poster again, forming four X's in the tattered paper.

"From they way people here talk, a large part of the residential area is inns. You go and watch your little show, I'll get us a room." With that she stormed off, ignoring the pain she was beginning to grow accustomed to in favor of getting away from the voices whispering about her harsh and unexpected action.

"What was that all about?" Kharg asked, pointing in the direction Keyana had gone.

"I don't know, nor do I think it's any of our business."

"Maybe you're right, but it was still rather... uncalled for."

"Maybe to you it was."

Kharg contemplated some sort of argumentative reply, but came up with none and chose instead to change the subject. "So, do you want to check it out or not? It'll be seating people an hour before it opens because of the demand, so if we want to get in we better head there now."

"Fine," was all Darc offered.

Though Kharg thought they had a decent amount of time, he was surprised to find he and Darc were among the last few people allowed admittance, and they had to stand in the back. The two said nothing as they waited side by side, Kharg noticing, for the first time, that Darc was no taller than he was. He'd never really thought about it before, but as boredom was beginning to overtake him, he had nothing else to ponder. Yes, Darc was his height, but his presence made him seem like he was taller, just as it made him seem older.

The hour-long wait was made more awkward and uncomfortable by the cramped conditions that the standing audience had to deal with. Every now and again the brothers' arms would brush against each other, followed by both of them snapping back like an elastic band. Then they'd stare at each other for a moment before looking away, a process repeated 5 or 6 times before the attendants began blowing out the house lights and lighting the stage ones.

The girl who walked onto the stage was dress rather plainly for such a celebrity, her thin-strapped, jade-green dress bringing out the intensity of her dark green eyes, which Kharg could make out even from the 15-20 row distance between them. The skirt of the dress was short on her right side, but slanted downward until the left side was to her ankle, showing off the black-strapped sandals she wore on her feet.

The audience hushed and the girl took a deep breath. The first note that pasted through her lips was soft and clear, but she soon built up in volume. She didn't sing words, but vocalized different strings of notes that flowed together beautifully. Even singing completely alone, without a single back-up singer or instrument, her voice was magnificently clear and astounding to Kharg's ears. But though her talent was inarguably unmatched, the fact still remained that nothing had happened as a result of it. The air in the room remained as still as the captivated audience, stilling even Darc's usual distain for music. Both of them stood in continuing awe, listening to the crescendo of volume and pitch until, with the rising of one hand and the completion of an unbelievably high note, the wind within the room picked up suddenly, giving the illusion that they'd suddenly been thrown into the begins of a tornado.

Shielding his eyes as the candle lights flickered violently, Kharg focused on the girl's hands, watching as the eloquent gestures she made became a lop of one particular movement. At first, one hand would sweep gracefully away from her heart before it was raised slightly, her knuckle barely brushing her chin. There is would stay for a moment before she stretched out a pale, bare arm and the dying gusts began again.

"Spirit magic," both of them realized quietly to themselves.

"But the spirits are gone," Kharg reasoned, leaning in as their shoulders touched, the wind still whipping around them in all directions, as if it were uncertain as to which way it wanted to go.

"And she's obviously no Deimos," Darc added.

Kharg pulled back, suddenly stepping forward so he was in Darc's line of vision. "So am I."

(-)(-)(-)(-)

"I'll speak with her alone," Kharg stated, lifting his hand as Darc rose to follow him back-stage. "If she is what we think she is, than she'll have an easier time trusting if it's just me."

"Fine," his brother agree indifferently. "I'll go search for Keyana before she scratches someone's eyes out."

The calm, serious tone Darc had while saying something like that made Kharg laugh out loud without realizing it.

"How is that funny?"

He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat as he replied, "It's not."

The other shook his head. "Human's are so weird," he stated before departing into the crowds to find their companion.

Taking a deep breath, Kharg headed back into the now-empty hall, amazed at how fast the stagehands had cleared away the chairs, leaving a hollow feeling about the place. Every footstep echoed back at him, and his mind began to panic slightly. Was it possible that there was someone else like him out there? A half Deimos born to a near completely human body, he never thought he'd ever find another. Darc was so different, his body a representation of both strands of genetics that comprised him, and he assumed that such dominant human characteristics made him the freak. Yet, from what he heard, his brother saw things in a totally different light...

"Are you lost?" a feminine voice inquired as he was snapped back to reality. He hadn't been paying attention, and the sharp clack of low heels was lost to his ears as the girl approached him from the side.

"No, I found you," he replied without thinking of the connotation, quickly moving to correct his meaning. "I mean I was looking for you."

"Ah ha..." she drawled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Do you need something?"

"Actually, can I speak with you privately?" he asked, cringing at how odd he must have sounded.

"Um... Yeah, my dressing room's got a small table and two chairs. Are you, like, okay?"

"I'm fine, I just wanted to ask you about something, I swear." He was actually beginning to sweat he felt so nervous, and he began tugging at his collar.

"This way," she directed, waving her hand and turning to walk back to the stage. He followed her behind the black curtain, stepping around scenery props and costumes until she came to plain-looking doorway.

Inside was just as the door foreshadowed. The table and chairs were simply crafted, the center point of a white-walled room. Ortena picked up two gold metal bands and slid them up her arms before grabbing a black belt off the a chair back. She clipped it on and adjusted the whip attached to it, staring at Kharg with skepticism and impatience.

"I'm sorry to stall like this. I just don't know exactly how to just ask this," he explained.

"Well try introducing yourself."

"Oh, my name's Kharg."

"Ortena," she replied lightly.

"Your performance tonight was amazing. I've never seen or heard anything like it. And the way you control the wind, it's nearly magical."

The blonde couldn't help but smile, even if she'd heard things like that many times before. "I'm glad you appreciate my hard work and dedication."

"How... do you do it? How do you make the wind do that?"

"Kharg, never ask a lady about her secrets," she answered with a wink, though her voice shook a bit.

"Maybe, I'm wrong," he started nervously, "but I think I know. Maybe you're like me, and you have that one thing that you can hide from everyone, but you know it's there. Maybe it's not bones sticking out of your back where wings used to be, or," he reached for the mark on his arm," a symbol of Deimos leadership, but I have a feeling there's something."

Ortena's eyes were distant as she stared off at something just above Kharg's shoulder. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice tremulous. "What do you feel the need to tell me any of this?"

"I've received word that things in Soluna are beginning to get out of hand, and the chaos here has the potential to spread to my homeland." He leaned forward, placing his palms on the empty tabletop. "That, and my brother and I are the only half-breeds I've ever even heard of."

"You have a brother... and he's like you?"

"Not exactly. You can tell he's half Deimos and half human."

She slid tiredly into one of the chairs, bringing her hand up to her forehead with a deep sigh. "You still haven't told me what you want," she reminded him.

He took the seat across from her and fiddled nervously with his hands. "Maybe you could tell me your story."

Standing up, Ortena walked over and grasped both sides of Kharg's collar. "Take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?!" he yelped, pulling back in defense.

"I want to make sure you're telling the truth, so come on baby, strip for me."

The expression Kharg wore, with his eyes twice their normal size and his mouth open so wide his chin almost touched his chest, was too priceless not to send the blonde into a nearly painful fit of hysterics. It didn't end until she clumsily fell backward in her chair, issuing a soft and sheepish "Ow..." before climbing back to her feet.

The air of tension around them thinned, leaving both thankful for the feeling. As she situated herself again, Ortena couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't a lone freak in the world. "But seriously, I want to see your back," she reiterated.

Drawing a deep breath in through is nose; Kharg stood up and crossed his arms, hooking his fingers into the base of his shirt. Had anyone else asked, be it Paulette, Lillia or even Duncan, he'd never have agreed. As he lifted the blue and yellow material out of his armor belt he turned around to show her the small white bumps. He'd never brought himself to actually look at them, but he could feel their presence whenever his back was against something, acting as a constant reminder of just what he was. Dropping the shirt on the table behind him, he looked back at Ortena to see her reaction.

With what seemed like a hint of pity and understanding in her striking green eyes, the girl took hold of the discarded shirt and stood. Walking over to an ill-organized pile of stage props, she pulled out a dusty red cloth and shook it clean before wrapping it around her waist. Before Kharg could even ask she yanked her skirt up from under the covering, scrunching it up just below her bust. There, tattooed in a scarlet red, were jagged, curved markings the swept across her abdomen and lower back. "My father was a human, my mother a Morkeeth," she spoke hesitantly, settling her green dress over the cloth before discarding it.

"My mother was a human, my father a Drakyr." Yes, the words passed through his lips, but his mind still didn't recognize it as fact.

Ortena quietly sat back down, motioning for her still-shirtless friend to do the same. She waved the garment about a little. "You'll get this back when I'm done." She began her story before he could protest. "My mother told me once, 'I fell in love with your father before I even saw him. I heard him singing, you know, in the forest outside our people's territory, and knew I wanted nothing more than for him never to stop.' The man she had been forced to marry when she was young was this oppressive bastard she hated, and so she felt no guilt for the things she did with my father. She gave that man one child, and so her marital debt to him was paid.

Even before she fell in love, my mother never liked it within the bounds of her territory, so no one noticed when she was gone, because she wasn't ever around to begin with. At the time I was conceived, her husband was off fighting the Serifins, so she feigned illness and stayed in bed until the night she went into labor. I'm still amazed she somehow snuck out and got to my grandparent's cottage, but she did, and that night I was born.

My mother wanted desperately to stay with me, but she knew she couldn't, and my parents parted ways. Of course that just had to be the night her husband returned. Morkeeth have always been obsessed with their beliefs in their supposed superiority over humans, and sometimes just attack us for fun, like we're toys. My father... he handed me over to my grandparents and told them to run. His grave is in the forest behind their cottage."

"Parents are like that," Kharg mused, laying his fingers across his birthmark.

"Did your father die protecting you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"No, actually, both of them died protecting my brother."

Ortena visibly cringed; kneading her hands together in sympathy for a man she'd never met. But Kharg was a decent man, and she could only assume the same about his brother. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know that after my mother found out, she was completely devastated. And then after all that all she had to do was take one good look at me and she knew she could never raise me. Light features, no claws, no fangs, no wings, nothing but these markings on my stomach. For eighteen years I was raised by my grandparents, learning how to read and write and defend myself with this," she remembered, resting her hand on the whip at her side. "They never brought up the markings, so I didn't think twice about them. They basically raised me alone, you know, like they'd take me into town but nothing much more than that. They were always so careful about people finding out, and they succeeded. I didn't even know."

"I can understand how you feel. Ignorance can build illusions."

"The mark on your arm?" she guessed.

He nodded. "I'd always assumed it was just some weird-shaped birthmark. I wore it with pride, and no one questioned it."

"Yeah," Ortena agreed. "You think that, like, if it doesn't hurt or spread then you were fine, right?"

"Heh, I see we think a lot alike."

"They say that great minds think alike," she quipped playfully, winking at him.

"So, how did you come to find out you were part Deimos?"

"Well I live like that for eighteen years," she continued, leaning back and staring at ceiling. "That had been the agreement all along. When I was 18, I would be told everything and given the option whether or not to meet my mother, who I thought, at the time, was dead. On the day of my birthday they sat me down and just straight out told me everything. It was so sweet," she droned sarcastically. "Happy birthday Ortena, you're actually half Deimos and your mother is alive. You even have a half sister you've never met."

"I wish I got that," Kharg mumbled bitter without thinking.

"Oh, and how did you find out?"

"I arrived home after receiving information that there'd been an attack. People ran away from me in fear, and I couldn't find my mother anywhere. Next thing I knew, one of my traveling companions and closest friends was telling me my mother had been killed by a Deimos, who was supposedly my brother. After I saw her grave for myself, the town confronted me, and then there was the pain ripping through my back like fire. All of a sudden my back felt heavy and people were screaming and running away. I'd... just sprouted wings out of nowhere."

Ortena recoiled, feeling guilty that she's even tried to compare her pain to his. "Ouch, okay, you win in the bad announcement department."

Kharg smiled cynically at his victory.

"Either way, it doesn't mean I wasn't still shocked when they told me. I didn't even believe them. 'What is this, some sick joke?' After I said that they just kind of bowed their heads. They wouldn't even look at me.

It was like I'd be physically hit by something and that impact turned my entire existence into a lie. I left without a word and visited my father's grave and just kinda... yelled at him. I was so angry and hurt and confused and there was no one there to help me with it. I don't think I'd ever felt so alone before. 

Eventually I returned and they asked me what I wanted to do. After sleeping on it, I decided I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I never met my own mother. Apparently, she'd been waiting to see me all this time. Arrangements where made without my knowledge, and an uneasy week later, I was lead into a clearing close to my father's grave and left there to wait for her. I couldn't help be feel like I was waiting to be attacked or something.

She showed up behind me, which kinda nerved me up even more. I mean, I turn around and there is this dark, winged... creature... and at the same time, there is my mother. I had to face I was part of this, that I had been since the day I was born.

After the shock wore off I immediately asked her to tell me about my father. My grandparents had told me plenty, but I wanted to hear it from her. I wanted to know if she loved him. All I had to do was mention him and she burst out in tears, saying that she wished she had died with him and she hated every day she had to spend without him. I couldn't help it; I cried with her.

We arranged to meet the following week, and she promised to bring my sister with her. I thought she'd be... nicer? She was very short with her words, obviously a product of the same bastard that killed my father. She knew I was her half-bred sibling, I knew she was loyal to her father, but my mother would not stand to see us fight. In time we forced ourselves to get along, finding that we had opposing traits that we could use to help each other.

Morkeeth can't sing, you know. Their vocal cords aren't built for it. Serifins can, but Morkeeth can't, so they're obsessed with music and dancing. I was always a klutz, and my sister was graceful, so she taught me how to dance. Thing was she taught me how to lead, so I've had issues dancing with guys ever since." Ortena's eyes darted to Kharg as if she had just remembered he was in the room, changing her nostalgic tone to an inquisitive one. "Do you sing?"

Kharg smiled at the memories that question brought up. His mother sang, and she had a beautifully soothing voice, but he was another story. "In large groups, during celebrations, but otherwise, I'm not much of a singer. I think the world is better off if I hum quietly."

Ortena casually pushed her chair back and propped her now shoeless feet up on the table, shifting until she was comfortable enough to continue. "Well I don't think there's been a day in my life where I haven't sang something. My grandparents said I sang before I spoke, and they knew music would be my life. My mother loved to listen to me sing, said I sounded just like the instrument my father played; the one they named me after. My sister, on the other hand, detested the sound of my voice, and usually left or scowled the minute I opened my mouth.

I looked just like my father, and she looked like hers, and there was no question as to which man my mother loved more. I won't deny it, my mother showed me thousands of times more love, affection and praise than she did my sister, and she was too blindly happy to realize what she was doing. Deep down, under her whole calm, indifferent exterior, that girl hated me with a passion."

Without warning, Ortena pushed back her chair and turned her back to the man listening to her, inexpertly and angrily punching a clenched fist into the whitewashed, concrete wall before her. "I'll bet you anything that she told him. I'd stake my very life on it in a heartbeat. Her sadistic fuck of a father was too stupid and blind to notice his wife was pregnant. How the hell did he find out about me then?"

Kharg couldn't answer, and swallowed hard as the girl's voice continued to get louder and more venomous.

"She didn't show up that day, I should have known something was wrong the but nothing seems all that different. I preferred having my mother to myself, so it wasn't really that big of a loss to me." He watched her still-turned back shake a bit, not knowing if she was more apt to cry, scream or collapse. "It took one damn second and she was just... just... gone. She was right there, just listening to me sing. Right next to me!

Those Morkeeth wings are so silent..."

The girl wound her fingers in her hair, and for a moment, Kharg selfishly regretted ever asking for her story. He didn't know this was what he was in store for.

"One second, damn it, and that bastard took her away from me. Three years was all I got. Three years to not feel like some discarded orphan while everyone else had their mommy and daddy... of at least one of them. It was..." she let out a frustrated yell and brought herself back to the table, burying her face in her hands. "I can still hear that sound. "He," she motioned with her fingertips, pressing them against her throat, "skewered her. She died instantly... there was blood everywhere... and he laughed about it!"

For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. Deep within his mind, Kharg pleaded that the story would end quickly. He was obviously going to be denied this, as the girl took a shaky, deep breath and continued.

"I don't remember most of what happened after that. It's all in angry, confused blurs. My grandparents came rushing out, but they were too late. He... he killed them, too." He voice was eerily hushed. "He took everyone away from me that had ever loved of cared for me. I just couldn't like him get away with it. I took my whip and cracked it to get his attention and then there was this feeling inside me, like everything was tearing free that had been building up for years.

I thought it was going to consume me from the inside, because everything suddenly went black and all I could hear were these tornado-like winds. The next thing I knew I was on my knees, curled up with my hands over my ears, screaming to drown out the wind. When it all finally stopped I looked up and he was sliced to ribbons. I'd... I'd killed the fucker.

And there she was, with the gall to look shocked. Right then and there we vowed to take each other's lives, and I haven't seen a single member of my family since. If I never see my sister again it'll be too soon."

Sensing she was done, Kharg's eyes darted around the room, resting on his shirt still in her hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, snapping back into her usual speaking tone. She was about to give him back his shirt when the door was suddenly pushed open by an irritably impatient Darc, who was shocked, to say the last, by what he found.

"Why aren't you wearing your shirt?" he immediately asked.

"You must be Darc," Ortena interjected, shaking his Deimos hand. "Hi, I'm Ortena."

Darc shifted his gaze to his brother and gestured inquisitively to the girl, asking a silent question.

"Yeah, she is," Kharg answered before looking to Ortena without showing his back to his brother. He'd prefer to keep that section of his past away from him. "Now can I have my shirt back?"

"Not unless he forks over the armor," the blonde bargained playfully. "One of you needs to be shirtless, or else it's just no fun."

"Excuse me?" Darc shot back, bringing his hands up to his armor.

"That's what I said," Kharg droned, snatching back his shirt and hastily sliding it back on before tucking it in.

"That's also what you did," she pointed out. "My, you two are brothers."

Opting to change the subject, Kharg looked out the window at the moon, high in the night sky. How long had he been talking to her? "We should get going."

Leading the way, Ortena took them back to the empty theater hall, inquiring whether or not they had a room yet. Kharg turned to his brother for an answer and got a shrug in return.

"I can't find Keyana anywhere," he replied.

Ortena stopped dead in her tracks. "What did you just say?"

"What are you talking about?"

Kharg had a bad feeling he knew where this was going already. "No..."

"Did you just say Keyana?"

"So what if I did?"

Long fingers wrapped around the whip at Ortena's side, yanking it out and unraveling it with a sharp snap. "Where is she? Where is that little Morkeeth bitch?" 

/lj-cut 


	6. Chapter 5: Dissipate

Unholy Order  
  
By: Magenta Fox (Yup, tis still me)  
  
Chapter 5: Dissipate  
  
A/N: I'm trying to get chapter 5 out faster. I'm so sorry about the wait for 4. I recently got into Tekken, and the yaoi from that is easier to find . But I have not left you! That, and my chapters seem to be decently long, or so I hope.  
  
-- -- -- --  
  
Ortena brought the handle of her whip up to rest under Kharg's chin. "Tell me where she is, now."  
  
"What's going on?" Darc asked, his tone demanding.  
  
The girl turned her attention to the Deimos hybrid, pointing her weapon at him accusingly. "If you don't tell me where she is, so help me, I will-"  
  
And then she heard it, a subtle click against the hall's low roof. Despite Kharg's attempts to restrain her by grabbing her arm, Ortena agilely leapt atop the stage before sending her whip flying upward with a flick of her wrist. It hit with surprising force, breaking through the ceiling to wrap around the leg of a hooded figure that she quickly pulled through the debris and hurtled toward the ground.  
  
Keyana gave a loud and agonizing wail and her wounded back collided with the hard tile, her body unable to move afterward. Within moments she felt her much taller sister straddling her hips, bringing her long, thin fingers to wrap around the Deimos's neck.  
  
All Keyana could do to defend herself was slash blindly with her claws, bringing her left hand across Ortena's right hip until the girl released her choke hold and recoiled back in pain. The Morkeeth woman laid there, gasping for air as her attacker clutched at the wound on her side, covering the scarlet markings she was so accustomed to hiding.  
  
The moment Keyana made a move to rise, Darc was right behind her, standing her up and locking her arms behind her in a hold that, even at full strength, she wouldn't have had any chance of breaking free of. Kharg followed suit, having a much harder time restraining the much stronger and angrier blonde sister.  
  
"Let me go," Ortena shouted, struggling despite the wound bleeding on her side. "She'll pay for what she's done to me!"  
  
"What did you do?" Darc asked, looking down and the desperately weak woman he was barely using an ounce of strength to restrain.  
  
"I did nothing," Keyana shot back in a biting tone. "She's the wretch that murdered my father."  
  
Ortena was appalled that her sister would even dare act as if she were the victim in all this. "That bastard killed everyone important to me! My grandparents, my mother; he took my father away from me the very night I was born!"  
  
"You're father and grandparents were nothing but lowly humans, do you think I could care any less about their pathetic little existence? Oh, and your dear mother," she spat, locking her blood-red eyes with the deep green of the other's, "was nothing but a filthy, disgraceful whore."  
  
"How dare you?!" Ortena shrieked, thrashing violently against Kharg's hold. "You're just like your father: a sadistic, heartless little fiend."  
  
"At least my father wasn't some filthy human."  
  
"It does matter, at least our mother lo-"  
  
"Don't you dare call her 'our' mother. That woman is not my mother and I will never accept that you are my sister!"  
  
"You demonic scum," the blonde breathed out vehemently.  
  
"Spawn of dishonor."  
  
"Inbred bitch!"  
  
"Half-bred bastard child!"  
  
Kharg's eyes darted up to catch Darc's, but his brother wouldn't face him. The room fell into an uneasy silence for a moment before Ortena shattered it with unexpected laughter.  
  
"What's so damn funny?" the Deimos woman snapped, quieting her sister's hysterics.  
  
The girl just smiled a haughty little smile before replying smugly, "Do you know who's holding on to you?"  
  
Darc glared daggers at her. This girl was quickly getting on his nerves.  
  
"His name is Darc, what's your point?"  
  
"Keep your mouth shut," he ordered. It wasn't that girl's place to share his business.  
  
"He's my brother," Kharg spoke up suddenly, disgusted at everyone behavior. "Now each and every one of us is going to stop this senseless bickering. Take it from us; it wouldn't make you feel any better if you killed each other."  
  
Darc sneered, knowing his brother was more right than he'd like to admit. He irritably flipped Keyana's hood back over her head and opted to leave. "We can finish this in the morning. Right now all I care about if finding an inn before all the rooms are taken."  
  
"You'd sleep near that thing?" Ortena questioned, her voice dripping with scorn and hatred. "Better keep one eye open, never know she might stab you in the back."  
  
"I didn't betray you, Ortena," her sister growled defensively.  
  
"Oh can it, I am in no mood to listen to your lies."  
  
"You're beginning to make me wish I had."  
  
"Enough already," Kharg interrupted, authoritatively tightening his grip on Ortena's arms.  
  
Unable to ignore the humor in the situation, Darc let a smirk play on to his features. "Stealing Lillia's job?"  
  
Kharg shot him a glare much akin to Ortena's before replying, "This isn't funny. Now, Ortena, why don't you hear Keyana out?"  
  
"Because she's too much of a diluted fool to listen," Keyana replied, her voice quiet and bitter from under her hood. "And get your filthy hands off me you… you… freak!" If anything, that comment compelled Darc to hold on to her tighter.  
  
"And you're too much of a backstabbing liar to be trusted."  
  
"Bite me!"  
  
"Bite yourself!"  
  
"Bastards first."  
  
"That's it," Darc declared, picking Keyana up in the same fashion as when he had gotten her onto the Pyron, "Now, I'm sick of listening to you two bicker."  
  
"You have no right to order me around." He ignored her and proceeded toward the door. "Let me go. She will pay for my father's death! Oh, if I weren't injured you would be in a world of pain right now. Are you listening to me?!" And then the door slammed shut.  
  
"Can I trust you enough not to have to resort to that?" Kharg asked after a moment of silence. Feeling rather defeated, Ortena weakly nodded her head, bringing her blonde strands to fall around her face as he released her. "So what are you going to do now?"  
  
"I just need to be alone," she stated, shoving him aside as she limped toward the door, clutching the gash on her side.  
  
"Ortena, don't-"  
  
"I won't go near her," she assured before he could finish. "At least not tonight."  
  
-- -- --  
  
Luckily, it only took three inns before Kharg found where Darc and Keyana were staying, praising the congenial innkeepers who had trusted him enough to tell him. He was surprised to find both his companions were in bed, blood hood and silver armor on the floor between the two beds that occupied their small, austere room. In no mood to sleep on the floor, Kharg discarded his armored belt and sat on the edge of his brother's bed to remove his boots.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Do you expect me to sleep with Keyana?" He hoped that if he acted nonchalant, then Darc wouldn't act as if it was a big deal. Much to his surprise, he felt weight shift to the other side of the bed.  
  
"Just don't touch me."  
  
Turning to face, his brother's bare back, he subconsciously bit his bottom lip in an attempt to quell the emerging feelings he'd be so blissfully ignorant of all due to his distractions all day. They always came back whenever his brother pushed him away like that. Maybe, he mused to himself as he removed the other boot, his upbringing was to blame. Though his mother abolished the Nidellian monarchy, people still treated him like a prince, humoring him constantly and protecting him for any and every little thing. He hated it with a passion. Darc, on the other hand, lead his own life, free of overbearing pampers that thought he was stupid and needed to be protected.  
  
For the time being, that notion was good enough an answer to Kharg's indecipherable feelings. Yes, they were probably just unaccustomed respect, maybe even admiration for the brother who had fought beside him in order to save the world from ultimate destruction. Even if Darc could be a rude, uncaring jerk at times, it was only natural that Kharg feel a deep connection to his own twin.  
  
'He's my brother.'  
  
He had never said it so defiantly before, not since their fight against the Lord of the Black Abyss. He almost felt bad after seeing Keyana's sudden and harsh change in mood.  
  
'He was always called a Deimos wannabe,' he remembered Lilia telling him.  
  
"Darc…" he spoke quietly, wondering if he'd fallen asleep yet before remembering his brother's troubled sleeping habits.  
  
"What?" his brother snapped back harshly."  
  
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what Keyana said to you."  
  
A bitter laugh rang out in response. "I do not need nor do I want your pity, Kharg."  
  
A sudden feeling crept up on him just then; a little pinch at the base of his spine he felt whenever Darc said his name. Pushing it aside, he adamantly replied, "I don't pity you, so quit being so defensive."  
  
"Don't order me around."  
  
"Then grow up a little and give me a reason not to."  
  
In retaliation, Darc kicked his twin hard in the back from underneath the bed's thin, white sheet. Kharg quickly grabbed the ankle of the foot that assaulted him and flung the Deimos hybrid onto the floor before climbing into the bed and situating himself comfortably. "Why can't you ever just be civil?" he asked. "I'm nice to you." It was amazing how he could switched from thinking about how deeply he revered and respected his brother, to how much he desperately wanted to punch him in the face.  
  
Climbing back in (and keeping a good distance between them), Darc gave nothing but an annoyed growl in response. Kharg quickly fell into a deep sleep, his body exhausted from the overwhelming day. His breathing slowed and created even breaks in the eerie silence of the night, bringing about an odd sense of serenity within the only one left awake. He disliked the foreign feeling, mainly because of who caused it. These days, his inability to hate his brother only led him to hate himself.  
  
-- -- -- --  
  
'I didn't betray you, Ortena.'  
  
She looked into the full-length mirror, her reflection lit by the few cream-colored candles scattered about he room. With a sharp wince, she removed her crimson-stained hand to inspect the gash on her hip, limping slightly as she searched for the needed materials to tend to her self.  
  
'I didn't betray you.'  
  
"Get out of my head…"  
  
'You make me wish I had.'  
  
"Liar!" she screamed to no one, her voice tremulous in an outward display of her internal conflict. Why would Keyana lie about something like that? What could she possibly hope to gain?  
  
"She's just playing with my head," Ortena reasoned. "She's sick."  
  
After quite expertly bandaging her wound (for though she was an graceful fighter, day-to-day activities had a knack for ending in disaster for her), she fell onto her bed; her body overcome with a feeling of unbearable heaviness, curiosity plaguing her thoughts as she drifted off into a restless sleep.  
  
-- -- -- --  
  
When Kharg awoke the next morning, he found he was taking up the whole bed, one leg kicked out and entangled in the sheet, one arm slung over the other pillow. He gave a light yawn and rubbed his eyes before scanning the room. Keyana remained asleep, her small body curled up and cocooned in the thick blanket Darc must have gotten for her. 'We should let her sleep until she wakes up on her own,' he thought, sitting up. 'I just wish we could take her to a doctor or something.'  
  
"Lain…" she muttered absently in her sleep. "Don't. What if… your brother finds out?" Her voice, though faint, sounded flustered and confused.  
  
"She's been calling out for her all night," Darc spoke up from the shadowed corner opposite Kharg. "It's the name of the other Deimos we found her with. She's going to be out for a while. In the mean time, I suggest you go speak with Ortena."  
  
Through the bluish haze that filled the room in anticipation of dawn, Kharg stared as his brother uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, allowing the faint bit of light to bring him into view. True, he had seen his brother without armor before, but it was always in the midst of rushing and important tasks. Never had he been granted the opportunity to realize the collection of scars that he was now trying unsuccessfully to ignore, only succeeding in making it more evident that he was.  
  
"I already told you I don't want your pity," he spoke callously, reaching for his armor.  
  
"And I already told you to stop being so defensive. I'm not you enemy anymore, Darc. Are you ever going to accept that?"  
  
Before either could get another word in they were interrupted by a faint knock on their hollow, wooden door. "I come bearing an offer," Ortena's muffled voice called from the other side.  
  
Pulling the twisted sheet the rest of the way off of him, Kharg approached the door and opened it slightly. Before him stood a very different Ortena than the memorizing performer or vengeful sister he met the night before. This young woman looked desperately tired, her usually bright blonde hair now limp and dull, tangled from tossing and turning all night. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile despite the fact that she could practically read his thoughts in his eyes.  
  
"Let me buy you lunch?" she offered. "You're brother can come, too. That is, if he can stand me for an hour or two."  
  
Behind the door, Darc flinched somewhat. He disliked other people referring to them as siblings.  
  
"Can I keep my shirt on this time?" he asked jokingly, attempting to ease the growing tension in the air.  
  
"Oh please do," she insisted. "We're going out in public and I have a reputation to uphold, you know."  
  
"Then I'll accept." Though he knew Darc would most likely refuse the invitation, it had been extended to him as well. "What about you, Darc?"  
  
Both outwardly human half-breeds turned to the slightly ajar door, watching as Darc emerged with his armor on and his sword once again at his side. He shrugged indifferent, replying with an apathetic "Why not?"  
  
-- -- -- --  
  
The meal was essentially consumed in silence, attesting for both the quality of the meal and the tense atmosphere. When the plates were finally cleared away and the three were left with just their water glasses to play with, Ortena made the first move to speak.  
  
"Where are you headed after you leave Midsia?" she finally asked, staring intensely at the melting ice cubes in her half-drunken water.  
  
"I don't know," Kharg answered honestly. "I guess we'll escort Keyana home. Even if you do hate her, she's too injured to go anywhere by herself. I can't bring myself to just abandon her."  
  
With a roll of his eyes, Darc sighed. "It's not your job to rescue everyone."  
  
"You're right," he agreed, "but I'm not treating it like a job. It's just what I want to do. Despite popular Deimos belief, helping other people doesn't kill you."  
  
"You're going to need me," Ortena spoke up quickly before she lost the courage to.  
  
"Huh?" the other two replied.  
  
"Morkeeth territory is southwest of here. You won't be able to make it there without me."  
  
Blinking hard, Kharg was so taken aback that he couldn't help but stutter. "E-are you offering to… join us?"  
  
Jade green eyes slid closed as the girl gave a deep, defeated sigh, her shoulders sinking heavily. Her voice was soft as she mumbled her response, but both boys still heard her. "I… I believe her…"  
  
Darc leaned back in his chair, and small and seemingly triumphant smile playing across his features. "Good. If you didn't, then I'd really think you were dumb."  
  
"Uh, thank you?"  
  
Kharg rolled his eyes and Ortena took notice of how much it looked like Darc no more than a few minutes before. "You'll have to excuse him, but that's the closest he can get to a compliment."  
  
"It's alright," she replied, grateful that they hadn't shot down her suggestion immediately. "But if she is telling the truth, then I want some answers, not only about my- our mother's death, but why she's here and what happened to her wings."  
  
Though he could have very well explained everything to her right then and there, Darc decided to keep his mouth shut and continue to listen.  
  
"We'd love to have you join us," Kharg assured, "but Keyana may not be so thrilled about the idea."  
  
"I want to talk to her, alone. She can't get to Cain without me and I intend on making her see that."  
  
"And how do we know you're not just trying to get her unguarded?" Darc wondered aloud, more experienced in this type of situation than he would have liked. "A few hours ago you were ready to throttle her, and now you seriously want us to believe you want to work as a team alongside the half-sister you've always hated? Excuse me if I'm in no rush to trust you."  
  
"You really don't have a choice," she told them outright. "There's a mountain range with constant blizzard that completely splits Soluna into Northeast and Southwest. There is only one pass that gives you any hope of getting through and it's heavily guarded. If I'm not with you, trust me, you will be killed, do you understand me?"  
  
The two brothers turned to face each other, nodding in wordless agreement to relent.  
  
-- -- -- --  
  
_She could see her so clearly, just standing there, waiting. She always kept her waiting. Now, she'd lost the chance to catch up to her.  
  
She tried to walk toward the waiting angel before her, but each step seemed to bring them further and further apart as the pain growing in Keyana's heart threatened to cripple her worse than Serifin fire could ever hope to.  
  
But maybe, just maybe, she could call out to her. "Lain? Lain, please don't leave me again." No response. "Say something, damn it! This is… all your fault in the first place. You changed me into what I am, and now I can't go back!"  
  
Lain turned her back to the demon and began to walk away.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Keyana shouted in one last vain attempt to reach her. "I'm sorry that I let this happen to us. Please, just don't leave me alone. Not now!"  
  
And then a voice rang in through the darkness that surrounded her.  
_  
"Who is she?" _It seemed like it was coming from all directions.  
  
"I don't know what to call her."  
_  
"Where is she now?"  
  
_"They… they took her from me," she whispered sharply, pressing her palms against her thighs _(a gesture Morkeeth used to physically express anger due to their inability to make fists).  
  
"Who did?"  
  
_Keyana spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. "Stop prying into my business and show yourself!"  
_  
"Just wake up," the voice commanded before she felt a slight pressure on her shoulder and immediately jolted to full consciousness.  
  
Ortena took back her hand and situated herself at the other end of the bed, expecting her sister to lash out the moment she realized what was going on.  
  
"Are you aware that most people prefer their victims asleep?" Keyana asked, dumbfounded by the blonde's apparent stupidity. "It makes them much easier to kill."  
  
"Yes, and had I been here to kill you, that'd be lovely advice."  
  
"What are you up to?" the Morkeeth asked, sitting up and backing against the wooden headboard.  
  
"Did you lie to me?" Ortena asked, her tone quick and sharp.  
  
"Don't answer my questions with questions."  
  
"Did you lie to me?" the half-breed repeated as if she hadn't heard a thing.  
  
"Did I lie to you about what?"  
  
"About betraying me," she clarified, leaning predatorily toward her wounded sister. "Look me straight in the eye and tell me you didn't tell your father about me. She reached forward swiftly and clasped black-clad shoulders in an almost bruising grip. "And don't you **dare** lie to me. If you do… I will not hesitate to rip your very heart out where you sit, do you hear me?"  
  
Silent contemplation took over Keyana's features before her eyes shifted downward, avoiding the interrogative stare of her furious half-sister.  
  
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Ortena ordered, her voice cracking with the promise of tears as she shook the young woman in her grasp. "Now answer me, damn it!"  
  
Keyana took a deep, shuttered breath, turned her features into a sneer and replied in a steady, even voice, "I told him. I told him everything and I'd gladly tell him again if it meant I could watch their blood spill before your very eyes once again."  
  
Outside the room, Darc and Kharg listened to the silence that fell after that statement. It was broken suddenly by the sickening sound of a hard slap followed by a loud thud. Kharg made a move toward the doorknob, but his hand was quickly swatted away by a scaled claw.  
  
Keyana winced from the unbearable pain coursing rapidly through her weary body, curling reflexively into the fetal position as her body was wracked by a dry coughing fit that sent dust flying into the glare of the sunlight seeping through the slits in the wooden blinds covering the room's windows. Her tightly shut eyes opened again as the shadow of her sister came to loom over her.  
  
"I told you not to lie to me," the furious blonde reminded her. "Now I'll ask you one last time, _sister_, did you betray me?"  
  
"What's it matter to you?" Keyana asked, trying to push herself up onto her hands and knees. "Just kill me already. It's not like I have anything left to live for anyway."  
  
"Fine, then I won't grant you the satisfaction of death," Ortena vowed, kneeling down to take hold of the front of her sister's black dress. "Tell me the truth. Tell me what happened that day!"  
  
"I just did."  
  
"Liar!" she denied with a hard shake.  
  
"What's the point in the truth? You wouldn't believe a word of it anyway."  
  
"Try me."  
  
When another silence fell over the room, the anxious brothers wondered if they should interrupt, but the anticipation of Keyana's answer kept them frozen in place.  
  
"You're an idiot if you can't figure it out on your own," the Morkeeth insulted.  
  
Ortena let go and sat across from Keyana, glaring at her as if to warn her against moving. "Really? Well I apologize for my stupidity. Please do explain to me the dire error I have made," she spoke sarcastically.  
  
"You _know_ my father watched every move I made. I was his only child and I was training to become ready to follow in his footsteps. Seeing you was near impossible, but for _dear Mother's_ sake I did it whenever I could. His wife, he couldn't care less about, but he never did like me being away from him for too long.  
  
He came to me one day and asked me to come with him to the dungeon to punish some humans that had been caught traipsing around in our territory. Before I knew it I was chained up myself, beaten for associating with you." Her palms pressed brutally against her thighs and she looked down at the floor as if defeated. "It seems I'm spending my life being punished for everyone's sins, left to suffer through life while they receive the liberation of death. If you had any ounce of compassion in you, you'd take my life now. Or maybe you hate me enough for wishing that it were my fault you lost everything. Either way, life is nothing but constant reminders of my own failure, misery and resentment. I want nothing more than to see it end."  
  
"You escaped to warn us, didn't you?" Ortena breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that again," she ordered, cringing at the thought and the truth behind it.  
  
"We'll be leaving tomorrow."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're returning to Cain, am I right?" Ortena asked, not waiting for a response. "You and I are headed in the same direction, and that's straight for Mount Fice. Even if you had your precious wings, they have special artillery for just that purpose. Kharg might be able to get past their checkpoint, but you and Darc will get shot on site. The bandits there don't distinguish; they're out to destroy all Deimos."  
  
"And what do you get out of it?" Keyana inquired, accusation laced in her words. "Besides a prime opportunity to stab me in the back when I least expect it."  
  
"If what you told me was the truth, then my quest for revenge against you ends here and now."  
  
"You don't expect us to be friends, do you?" the older sister wondered with disbelief.  
  
"By no means. The likes of you still murdered everyone important to me in cold blood, and you still hold that sadistic monster on some sick pedestal. No, I want teammates. The voyage is far from safe, and thought I don't know why, it seems the only two half-breeds I could ever hope to meet in the world are allied with you, of all people. Even if it means putting up with you, I would like to travel with them. It's nice to know I'm not alone."  
  
"I wish you were," Keyana spat back rebelliously. "The mere existence of your soiled blood makes me sick. I admired my father because he was a strong man who honored the statutes and traditions of our people. That's more than I could ever say about that woman I called my mother."  
  
"You're impossible," Ortena recognized with a deep sigh. "We leave tomorrow whether you like it or not."  
  
The Deimos woman finally pulled herself up, painfully and shakily standing on her feet once again. "I will go," she agreed with jagged breaths, "But once you get to wherever it is you're going, I want you out of my life for good, you hear me?"  
  
The taller sibling stepped toward her, bringing their nearly full foot height different to their attention. "I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
-- -- -- -- --  
  
Throughout the trip, Keyana proved to be quite useless in battle. Though sharp, her claws did little damage to the monsters they encountered along the way (which, surprisingly, didn't differ much from those that Darc and Kharg had often encountered before), and she was often used as a healer. Ortena, however, proved time and time again that she was a formidable ally, her strength and defense much better than expected.  
  
Most of the journey was through forest, and nights were spent sleeping by a fire, the two sisters using the two brothers as a shield between them as they slept. Each night seemed to blur into the same routine: Keyana would collapse weakly on one side on the clearing; Ortena would settle herself on the other. Kharg and Darc subconsciously separated themselves in the same fashion.  
  
Keyana had been improving slightly, but she was still a major burden on the party. Darc often forced her to let herself be carried, which would leave to her complaining initially before giving in until she felt she could keep up again. It was really the only time anyone spoke, except for the occasional casual chatter between Kharg and Ortena, who didn't find the silence as soothing as their less human counterparts.  
  
When they reached the base of the colossal, snow-covered mass of rock known as Mount Fice, Keyana donned her black hood once more. A crafty bandit stationed at the bottom was selling overpriced snow gear, but after seeing the blonde singer (who told her companions to stay out of sight while she took care of things), he promptly handed over three of his best hoods and a few highly potent healing items made from herbs found under the tall snows of this particular mountain.

The trip up was arduous and the cold seemed to clamp onto their bones and freeze them from the inside out. Luckily, monsters couldn't survive the climate, so the threat of being attacked by them was nearly non-existent. Unbeknownst to her three companions, Ortena was wearing a devious smirk under her hood, her mind ruminating on her plans for when they arrived at the checkpoint. Her tolerance to the cold and determination to reach her destination caused her to take longer, quicker strides.  
  
Because the trip had to be made in one day, the party had left their previous campsite earlier than usual and had until sunset to reach the checkpoint. If left outside when night fell, any human or Deimos would unquestionably freeze to death within an hour at the most. With that fact in mind, Darc and Kharg switched off who would carry Keyana as the snow got deeper and deeper and the slope became higher and higher.  
  
It wasn't until the setting sun painted an orange hue over the pristine, white snow that they finally spotted two large, wooden doors surrounded by parallel cliffs. It seemed unguarded, however, and Ortena only sped up when it came into view.  
  
And then they heard it, the familiar sound of guns cocking, ready to fire.  
  
"Those who wish to pass this checkpoint must show they they're faces are not those of filthy Deimos," a deep, male voice called from above them. Looking up to the top of the doors, the group found a young man standing confidently before them. He was very tall, clad in a thick, full-length, dark blue coat trimmed in black with his short, light brown hair spiked up. Turning to the side, they became aware of a large scar trailing from his right ear to his chin as his face played into a knowing smirk. "Remove your hoods and you may be on your way."  
  
Darc and Kharg looked to their guide for instruction and were met with a gesture that told them not to move. Though hesitant, they had no other choice but to do as they said, even with what sounded like at least fifty guns pointed right at them. Keyana could sense something was up, and she didn't like it.  
  
"No," Ortena answered indignantly. The sound of guns shifting once again filled the air.  
  
"This it your idea of getting us through here?" Keyana whispered sharply from under her hood.  
  
Kharg himself felt the need to show his face just to prove (in a way) that one of them was human, at least.  
  
"Then you shall die here in the name of exterminating all the Deimos scum from these lands," he told them, his grey-blue eyes narrowing predatorily as he raised his arm to give the signal to fire.  
  
"And I love you, too, Jedrick," the blonde spoke up once more. The young bandit leader's hand dropped immediately.  
  
"Ortena?! Hold your fire, men. And get me a ladder or something, damn it."  
  
A playful giggle came from under Ortena's hood as she sighed softly to herself and mused, "You always did like looking imposing on those doors, but it takes you forever to get the heck down."  
  
Wearing a look of disgust and disbelief, Keyana watched as this bumbling idiot finally touched upon the snowy ground only to bolt straight for her half-sister and sweep the girl up off her feet before locking her lips in a passionate kiss. Had the gunmen not been surrounding her, she would have gladly made a move to rip his throat out for touching some of her blood, mixed or not.  
  
"I missed you so much," Jedrick professed, spinning Ortena around once more before letting her feet touch the ground without breaking their embrace.  
  
"I missed you, too, Sweetie," she answered, laying it on real thick just because she knew how angry it was making Keyana. "But I need a favor from you."  
  
"Ho ho, back after so long and already acting like you own the place," he asked, his tone playful.  
  
"Well, I own you, and you own the place, so technically it is mine."  
  
The bandit leader laughed. "True. I'll give you that. So whatever can I do for you, Milady?"  
  
Ortena's pale hand came out from under her black cloak and motioned to her three companions. "I need you to let us stay with you for a while and refill our Charge Gauges."  
  
"No problem. Jeez, why'd you even ask?"  
  
"They're… ah… They're Deimos. Well, two of them, anyway."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Kharg's eyes darted back and forth, half expecting an avalanche after an outburst like that echoed through the mountains.  
  
"They helped me, Sweetheart," she explained, trying her best to sound convincing. "I mean, one of them's a wingless Morkeeth and the other's half human and half an other-worldly race. They're not like other Deimos, I swear."  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jedrick sighed heavily before asking, "How do you expect me to explain it to everyone?"  
  
"I'll take care of it," she suggested. "Just let us through and I'll handle everything."  
  
Wordlessly, black-gloved hands gave the signals for the doors to be opened, and the four travelers stepped where those with Deimos blood were never supposed to tread.  
  
Alright folks. Now that I think I have established Ortena and Keyana, the focus will shift back to Darc and Kharg.  
  
In the next chapter  
  
-Meet the Mount Fice Bandits!  
  
-Learn how Ortena and Jedrick met!  
  
-Watch as Kharg asks Darc a serious question… and gets a serious answer!  
  
-And firbles. Lots and lots of firbles. 


	7. Chapter 6: Chances

Unholy Order

By: GOD! Nah, just me, Magenta Fox

Chapter 6: Chances

A/N: Whew, already on Ch 6. Well, I'm glad that people are actually reading this. I was really worried I wouldn't have a single reader. Thanks to all who reviewed, and all who will review. There just isn't enough Arc the Lad fan fiction out there. I mean, it doesn't even get a section. It should. Maybe I'll talk to about it. . .

And on another note, do you guys prefer the long chapters? If you really wanted, I _could_ break them up, but from my experience people would rather wait for my 12-18 page updates.

To the people at : Thanks for all your support. As far as the trip seeming too short, that's because I'm trying to write this much like Arc the Lad itself is played. Since Darc and Kharg just run across a map, I didn't want to go too much into the trip. I know the proofreading could be better, and I'll try to make sure this one is.

To the people at : I'm glad I was found here as well. has been having issues lately, and getting a post up is hard work, but I'll try to update ASAP.

To the people at MediaMiner: I appreciate the supportive reviews, but your ratings seem to say I have much room for improvement. What could make the story more creative to you or my writing style better?

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The other side of those massive doors was considerably different from the atmosphere of the rest of the mountain. Surrounded and protected by various cliffs, the Mount Fice Bandits' hideout was more like a small community, various houses littered across the area, all surrounding one large, central meeting place. The snow and wind were much more bearable here, and, if one was distracted enough, maybe even forgettable.

Now that he was sure he wasn't about to be fired at by an army of anxious bandits, Kharg decided to leave his hood on, both for the warmth it offered but also as a way to not draw attention to himself. If he took it off, people may wonder why one of Ortena's traveling companions would show his face and the other's wouldn't. Also, he felt it would be rude to flaunt his ability to walk around in public with no shame while Darc's only saving grace was that he was half human and Keyana's was her lack of wings, things neither of them were proud of.

The group followed Jedrick and Ortena, who were holding hands and walking a few paces faster. It was then that Kharg truly noticed how tall the couple was. Ortena was about his height to begin with, and this man she seemed to be in love with was three or four inches taller. Keyana lagged behind a bit, both from her weariness and short strides, and Kharg slowed down so that they were walking in a line, Darc in front of him and Keyana behind him.

The party soon entered the central meeting house, a rush of warm air thawing their freezing forms almost instantly. Keyana threw herself into the first available chair, so incredibly tired that even if someone had been sitting there already, she wouldn't have cared in the least. A few bandits took notice and instantly brightened when they saw their familiar blonde companion, completely ignoring her three mysterious guests.

"Ortena! You're not dead!" was called across the room, bringing everyone's attention to the doorway.

"You always did have a way with words, Fircy," she called back jokingly.

"This is cause for celebration!" someone else shouted, and the room erupted into thunderous chatter.

"Now would be a good time to explain your little secrets," Jedrick leaned over and whispered. "And make sure they know I had nothing to do with this."

"Calm yourself, dear, I know what I'm doing," she assured, adjusting her cloak for dramatic purposes. She stepped forward into the crowd, giving hugs and shaking hands with the only family she'd know since the murder of her family. It was odd that she'd returned with the spawn of that very murderer, but then wasn't the time to dwell.

"I think I prefer the guns," Darc spoke cynically as he took up the chair next to Keyana's seemingly lifeless form.

"What do you think they're going to do when she tells them?" she wondered.

"I don't know, but it better be soon."

As of on cue, Ortena was hoisted onto the long, wooden bar in the farthest corner of the now very crowded room. She raised both her hands, motioning for silence until the chaotic uproar died down to faint murmurs. With a deep breath and a warm smile, she prepared to play the crowd. "Well, obviously, I'm back!" At that the bandits began their celebratory yelling yet again, which she yet again hushed. "And I brought some new friends with me. Well, kinda. And I say we show them just how hard we can party." Shouts of agreement sounded in response as the three hooded figures rung their hands and claws nervously through the fabric of their coverings. It seemed more like she was setting them up to get attacked. "But there's one condition," she added, her voice suddenly serious. "You've grown to be like my family, and I hope that with that, you've come to trust my judgment. I know it's a little awkward, but I know what I'm doing here. During my travels I came across some people I've chosen to travel with. When I promise you they are no threat, I hope that you believe me."

The eerily silent crowd turned to the figures behind them, two of which were seated with one standing behind them.

"What, are they Deimos or something?" someone asked without being serious.

Unable to resisted, Keyana slowly reached up a clawed hand just as Darc did, pulling the hoods back to reveal themselves to the group. Though internally they were terrified, not an ounce of it showed as the smirked haughtily as if the challenge the mob to do something about their presence.

Shooting an icy glare to her sister and Darc, Ortena attempted to remedy the situation as best she could. "Technically one's a Deimos and the other. . ." she looked to Kharg for and ending to the statement. With surprising confidence, Kharg pulled back his hood as well and held up two fingers, nodding his consent. "The other two are half Deimos."

"Jedrick, sir," one of the older bandit men called out, pushing his way through the crowd to the doorway where his leader stood. "You allowed her to bring 'em in here? I say we kill 'em now. Forget who brought 'em here."

With a slight sigh and a shake of his head, Jedrick placed a hand on the man's shoulder, pinching down hard though his face showed nothing but disappointment. "You didn't let her finish," he reprimanded calmly as the man fell to he knees from the pain.

"Jedrick," Ortena interjected, placing her hands on her hips.

"Right, sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he let go and helped the frightened man back up as if they were the closest of friends.

"Anyways, as I was saying," she went to continue, "They're of no threat to you, so I want each and every one of you to treat them just as you would me."

"Are you sure about this Ortena?" a young girl, who was eying Keyana suspiciously, asked. Maybe the two half breeds, but you want us to trust a Hell Spawn."

"Oh come on, I don't bite," Keyana assured, taking a step forward. "Unless I feel like it, that is." Hand flew to weapons in an instant at the comment.

Feeling especially defeated, Ortena reached down deep and pulled out the only things she knew would have to work in this situation. Dropping down to her knees (and knocking over a drink glass or two, as she was still on the bar), the girl began to weep pitifully, wailing about how they all hated her and didn't trust her at all. Pretty soon the entire room felt ashamed of themselves and immediately went over to welcome their new guests to Mount Fice as Jedrick smiled fondly in his little corner.

"I never doubted you for a second."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

While Keyana was off finally seeing a doctor, Darc and Kharg got themselves situated in the small room allotted to them by an almost fearful young man who quickly left after they reached the door. The two half-breeds ignored him and entered, silently thanking whatever higher power there was that there were two small beds and a table in the room. Neither was fond of sharing their bed space, let alone with each other.

"You're very dumb, you know that?" Darc suddenly asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed that would be his. "You'd have been better off letting Ortena lie."

"That's your opinion," Kharg pointed out, sitting on the same bed so the two were back to back. "Sometimes you get sick of living a lie, even it the truth hurts more than reality. Denial is very. . ." he stared out the window at the light flurry of snowflakes and search for the right word. ". . . empty."

Darc didn't offer a reply, nor did he move.

"Can I ask you something?" he wondered, still not shifting his gaze form the blue-curtained window.

"Sure, but there's no guarantee I'll answer you," Darc replied honestly.

"Do you ever wish we'd never met?"

The intense seriousness and thoughtfulness of the question made the other young man blink hard, his eyes widening slightly when he reopened them. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"It's just something I wonder sometimes."

Getting up abruptly, Darc paced over to the window and stood beside it, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall as he looked out with the same far-off stare as his twin. "Do you want me to say I don't?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Kharg answered, looking down at the floor as his hands rested uneasily on his knees.

"Of course I do. It was a lot easier when I thought you were dead.

When I was told I had a twin brother that died with my mother, I assumed he would have looked liked me, and gone through the same things I had. But no, he was some pampered prince who was raised with wealth and comfort and a mother."

"I wasn't a prince," he corrected. "Our mother never wanted to be a queen or have the people of Nidellia live in a monarchy. I'll admit that many people didn't see it that way, but it wasn't as great as you think."

Darc rolled his eyes and shifted his posture so that he was staring straight at his brother, who had since leaned back onto straightened arms. "And what about you?" he asked, turning the question back on the inquirer.

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. If I'd never met you, then I would have continued living my life as a human, just like everyone else around me. I guess you could say back then, ignorance was bliss. Then again, if we hadn't met, then we would have never been able to team up and defeat the Lord of the Black Abyss."

Darc snorted lightly and turned away again. "We Deimos could have done it without your help."

"Suuuure," the other replied sarcastically with a small laugh. "And right now Lillia's leading the new war campaign against Cragh Island."

Suppressing the urge to smile at the mocking comment himself, Darc turned his attention back to the scene outside, faintly noticing the sounds of someone walking up behind him.

"Do you ever think that maybe there's even more people out there like us?" the boy asked, surprised a bit when his brother turned around to face him.

"If there are, they either don't know or are too afraid to say anything. Then again, fear can be a strong motivation in a lot of cases."

"Or it can hold you back from going after what you really want," Kharg argued earnestly, leaning forward a bit to emphasize his hastily given point. It was in awkward position for both of them, and yet neither could seem to find it in themselves to move. Instead they simply stood there, eyes locked firmly in unyielding contemplative stares. It was Darc who moved first, maybe attempting to get away but only succeeding in bringing them closer together to the point where, at their even heights, their chests almost touched. Kharg felt as if something strong and unyielding was bracing his neck, prohibiting him from looking anywhere else but into the scarlet eyes of his brother.

"Hey guys, Ortena wants you-" Keyana began as she swung open the door

without knocking. "Hey, you told me he wasn't your-"

"What does Ortena want?" Darc interrupted quickly, stepping past Kharg as a child would flee from a partner in crime.

"Follow me," she ordered, waving her hand as she stepped back into the hall, "We all need to refill our Charge Gauges."

"Our what?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Spi- rit Stones?" Jedrick repeated confusingly. "You're telling me your special attacks were powered by rocks?"

"Not rocks," Darc corrected. "It was an ancient form of power we'd used for centuries. What the hell's a Charge Gauge?"

"It's an electrical impulse the Morkeeth developed to power their attacks," Keyana answered sharply before Jedrick could. "The Serifins stole it from us and the humans thought they dare have a right to try to use it as well."

"Better in the hands of us than you filthy pieces of scum," the bandit leader barked back, balling his fists as if ready to strike. Normally he'd never lay a hand on a girl until physically hit first, but this was no girl to him. This was a monster.

"Oh please, like you worthless little weaklings could ever stand a chance against the immense magical powers of a Deimos."

Ortena cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the argument. "Now,

now children, let's not fight. Or did you already forget that you both agreed to be civil?" The two growled at each other, but no more words were exchanged. "Alright, I'm gonna turn it on for you, cause if you program it wrong it won't stop, and over-charging can kill you."

Kharg glanced over at the contraption in question. It was a metal box situated on a wall at about where his chest was. Inside were two parallel, horizontal poles, each with groves that resembled a hand's grip. "So it sends an electrical impulse through your body that stays there until you use it to cast?"

"Exactly," the green-clad girl chimed.

"You don't look much like a Deimos," Jedrick commented quite randomly, rubbing his chin as he narrowed his eyes in inspection. "Cept your ears. . . and that mark on your arm that's like his."

"Jedrick, stop that."

"What, I'm just telling the truth."

The girl sighed and flicked on the switch to activate the Gauge Charger. Kharg's hands instinctive went up to his ears, feeling how long they were. It was true, but no one ever question it, save for Paulette, who was quickly reprimanded by her father for talking to a member of the royal family in such a way. In fact, it was basically the first words the girl had ever spoken to him. "My, you sure have funny ears."

And his mark. The "Crest of Will" Darc said it was called. A shocking realization hit him just then: he hadn't reached for it in days, despite the plethora of uncomfortable and confusing situations he'd be thrown into. It was a startling thought, and yet he still felt no urge to reach for his comforting birthmark.

"See, just grab onto it and it'll charge you until you can't hold anymore. It'll know when, so you don't have to pay attention really," Ortena explained, demonstrating it as she did. Tiny blue sparks appeared every now and again, and the machine gave a louder hum during the process, but other than that nothing seemed to change. She stepped back and shook her hands a bit, exhaling a relieved breath. "Care to try?"

The rest of the group took turns at the contraption, feeling instantly revitalized mere seconds after the process was done. Darc and Kharg could feel the similarities and differences to the power of Spirit Stones. Spirits Stones were more of a weapon or an accessory to be used by them, helping to generate certain powers based on the ability and will of the user. This new concept of a Charge Gauge was something much more potent and tangible. It felt as if the power was inside them, coursing through their veins like some empowering high.

"I have to tell Tatjana about this," Kharg spoke with astonishment, staring at his hands and he clenched and unclenched them.

"That's nothing compared to what we have protecting our cities," Keyana told him. "Things no Serifin or human could ever dream of being able to handle or comprehend."

"Ah, then why don't you do us all a favor and blow yourselves up?" Jedrick suggested, spawning another harsh round of bickering that Ortena was forced to interrupt.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was a well know fact that the bandits of Mount Fice had a strong love for good music, good company and good liquor. Therefore, with an event as monumental as the return of the secondary leader (whom they all loved and respected), everyone was expected to party relentlessly through the night, whether they wanted to or not. The bar would be fully stocked, the musicians were already polishing their instruments and everyone was sifting through their closets, pondering what to wear.

Having to adapt to the mountain's frigid climate, Darc was forced by both Kharg and Ortena to abandon his armor in favor of a brown leather coat, which he often shifted and pulled at. He had never been fond of the cold, but this was absolutely wretched to him.

Kharg, on the other hand, gratefully accepted the black wool coat he was offered. In return for their hospitality, he offered to help with the set up, and at the moment Darc was watching him through the window as he carried one end of a long table. The Deimos hybrid couldn't help but wonder if they'd accept him like that, had he been willing to help. Even through their apparent friendliness, he could still sense a deep and fierce hostility in each of them. They put up with their new guests for the sake of their leader.

He smirked at this, feeling a little higher than the ignorant humans who looked down upon them. They didn't even know that Ortena was a half-breed herself, and though he had no intention of doing so, he was curious as to how the group would react. Probably with disgust and malice, knowing usual human behavior toward Deimos. And Jedrick, the top advocate for Deimos genocide, it seemed, would be the most interesting one to watch.

Darc remained lost in his thoughts like that until Kharg went running by his field of vision again, looking behind himself occasionally as if he were being chased. Right on his tail was Ortena, having donned a jade-green coat that matched her dress and eyes. She was playfully hurtling snowballs at her fleeing fellow half breed, Jedrick following close behind. It was quite a random and comical scene, bringing a genuine smile to his features for a flickering moment.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Keyana pushed and shoved her way through the boisterous crowd, taking

the seat at the furthest end of the bar. She looked up when a shadow brushed over to her, expecting to see a large, rugged man wiping out a glass and asking sharply what her order was. Instead she found a petit young woman with long blonde hair, bright and golden much like her sister's. She wore a black headband lined with white lace, which matched her long-sleeved dress, which had the same lining on its cuffs and the base of the skirt. Kind blue eyes shut as she smiled sweetly, asking in an outwardly friendly and courteous tone, "Evening, Hell Spawn, what I can I get for the evil and disgraceful likes of you?"

"Something hard that'll make me forget that I'm trapped with a bunch of moronic humans." She looked down at the girls feet, noting the floor behind the bar was elevated considerably to compensate for the girl's height. "And make it snappy, midget."

"How abut kerosene?" the girl suggested, her voice still calm and charming.

"Hey Perri, see if she can handle what Jedrick drinks," Ortena called from the other end of the bar, eyeing her sister with a challenging glare.

The Morkeeth looked bemused as an amber-colored drink was placed in front of her, but she didn't look ready to back down any time soon. The area around the bar went silent as they realized what the petit demon woman was about to attempt. No one but their leader could ever

handle a shot of his famous "Fice Shaker" without sputtering for a good twenty minutes from just the smell alone. Needless to say, the drink was strong.

Darc who had, by then, finally located his brother, watched the spectacle himself from behind her, his arms crossed self-consciously over his bare chest. He longed for his armor, but no one was paying attention to him much anyways. Instead he too focused on the Deimos woman sitting at the bar, swishing her drink back and forth in her glass. In one quick motion she banged the glass back on to the bar and then brought it to her lips, swallowing all of it in one loud gulp.

The crowd went wild, reminding both of the half-bred brothers of the arena battles they'd fought in. With an air of superiority, Keyana waved her hand indifferently and casually asked, "Is that the best you've got?"

Back in the corner, Kharg leaned over to his brother and quietly inquired, "Do you drink alcohol?"

Without thinking he answered honestly. Maybe just a little too honestly. "Are you kidding?" he responded with a bitter laugh. "I may have been in charge of buying it for that old hag, but if she ever caught me smelling like it I'd get beaten until I-" he stopped abruptly, turning the conversation back to its original point. "No, I don't drink. Do you?"

Choosing not to peruse what Darc obviously didn't want to talk about, he answered the question he was asked. "Humans can't drink until they're 20."

Before the other could respond, both boys found their necks encircles from behind by a figure that was obviously shorter than them and substantially inebriated. She leaned on them for support, dragging herself up until she was standing while pulling them down to her level. "You guys aren'so bad," she half sang, swaying back and forth.

"Thera, what did I tell you about getting out of my eyesight when your drunk?" a much taller, older-looking brunette shouted at the redhead draped across the two brothers. This girl looked more like a planner and less like a fighter, her long brown hair tied into pigtails at her neck and her black, wire-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She apologized for her friend's behavior and scolded her quietly, dragging her back into the crowd.

Back at the bar, Jedrick and Keyana were having a drinking contest and Ortena was wishing she'd never been born.

With a disappointed sigh, the older bandit teenager sat her drunken friend down in an empty chair and immediately began chastising her. "What did I tell you about getting so drunk that you can't remember your own name?"

"I know my name," Thera argued back indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "It's Acalia."

"That's my name."

"Don't try to steal my name!"

Kharg let out a stifled laugh at the display, which reminded him slightly of the Defense Corps members whom his mother often ended up taking care of the morning after. It was an odd thing to trigger homesickness, but it did all the same.

"You look so cute when you laugh," a delicate, unfamiliar voice spoke, breaking him from his reverie. He turned a little to find a young, blonde bandit standing with her arms folded behind her back. Her hair was different from Ortena's or Perri's, darker and kissed with a bit of an orange. Considering the exceptionally cold temperatures of the region, she looked out of place in her denim skirt, which was short enough to reveal the leather belt of handleless knives on her right thigh, most likely her weapon of choice.

"Thanks," he replied sheepishly, "but shouldn't you hate me?"

"Nah, who could hate you with a face like that?" she asked, waving her hand as if to dismiss his inquiry. "You're far too cute for that. As a matter of fact, can I hug you?"

Smiling kindly as the girl's friendliness, Kharg gathered the petit girl into a warm embrace, not caring that it had no real reason behind it. Over the girl's shoulder he spotted Ortena walking toward him, her glass of water in one hand.

"Amicable as ever, eh Melosa?" the female bandit leader observed, giving the girl a slight hug with her free arm.

"Well I just feel bad that people are being mean to him," Melosa spoke up, trying to defend her actions. "I don't see why we have to hate them, it doesn't get us anywhere."

Leaning in close, Ortena dropped her voice to a whisper. "I know that's how you feel, but you know better than to talk like that in a place like this."

Sensing the seriousness of the conversation, Kharg kept his voice low as well. "Why are you a part of this if that's how you feel?"

The girl's eyes lost their brightness as they fell to the floor. "Because my friends are here, and I don't want to lose them. Maybe I'm just being a dreamer, but when I look at you and your brother, I see some kind of hope for a peaceful future. Miss Ortena says she understands how I feel, but everyone is just so bent on fighting that… that…" she trailed off, choking on a sob.

"She's a very… sensitive girl," Ortena explained, leading Melosa away with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Left alone once again, Kharg couldn't help but feel pulled, as if something were missing and he was supposed to go find it. He scanned the room for his brother, panicking slightly at his brother's absence.

Over at the bar, Jedrick (who was quite drunk by this point) had forfeited the drinking contest.

"What **are** you, woman?" he asked, accusatively and unsteadily point his empty glass at her. "Scratch that, you ain't no woman, you're a beast."

"Ah com'on Jedrick," a tan, dark-haired bandit called from behind him, slapping him on the shoulder. "Yer not gonna let 'er win, are ya?"

"I gotta," the scarred young man relented. "I bet the likes of you drink poison with your breakfast."

Keyana smirked at the assumption, rolling her drink glass back and forth with her palms. "Only on special occasions."

Kharg once again scanned the room, but Darc was still nowhere to be found. Without so much as a goodbye to anyone, he took off hastily through the door and into the biting chill of the quiet evening. The world he'd walked into looked quite desolate and shadowy, the building looking as if their windows had been doused with black from the inside.

A faint light flickered shallowly at the end of the road, grasping Kharg's attention in and firm and passionate grip. Holding his blue collar shut to delay the cold from seeping into his body, he took his first few steps toward the mysterious disturbance.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Oh, but tell it again," one of the older bandit woman pleaded as she looked up at her leaders. Jedrick and Ortena sat like a king and queen on large, wooden chairs atop a stage at the rear of the room.

"Yeah, I love hearing that story," Melosa chimed. "It's so sweet."

Like the crew of rowdy drunks they were, the Mount Fice Bandits began a deep and steady chant of "Tell it. Tell it. Tell it."

Raising his hands in surrender (and earning a cheer so loud he thought it had echoed back off the cliffs), Jedrick pulled off his black gloves and laced his fingers with Ortena's. Keyana eyed the gesture with malice and disgust, but no one was paying her any mind.

"Ah, but where to start?" he asked the crowd.

"Well start at the very beginning," Ortena suggested. "I hear it's a very good place to start."

"Alright, alright. Well folks, we all know the rules of this here mountain. Those who wanna be leader have to go on a Pilgrimage to the Cave of Morrows, break off a chip from our Sword of History and bring it back. Well after the death of our brave and fearless leader at the hands of you Morkeeth rubbish," he spat in Keyana's direction as many of the bandits flashed death glares at her, "I was chosen, at twenty-five, to be the youngest leader Mount Fice had ever had. And we all may know this, but I think I know it better then any of you will ever know: it's fucking cold out there." He paused as everyone gave a short laugh before he continued. "Yeah, well I still got there alright, bein' used to the cold an all, but then this huge blizzard came rolling along and decided, 'Hey, look, that Jedrick guy is trying to accomplishing something really important and difficult, let's make it a billion times harder.'

Ah, and to make matters worse I had to have a lovely run in with a Serifin that got grounded by the storm. That blue bitch slashed me from ear to chin, and I'll be wearing the scar to prove it for the rest of my life."

'I see you've met Evadne,' Keyana mused to herself bitterly.

"And I'll admit it, that chick was something' fierce. I was just so damn numb and tired and hungry that I could barely hold on to my weapons, let alone fight the damn banshee off. Ah but then, you see, Heaven sent me an angel with a black whip." A bandit whistled lewdly and the room laughed again. "Needless to say, we took her down together, and she flew off. The problem was we were real beat up and when I asked this mystery girl how she was, she went and fell right over into the snow.

Now when I saw that pale, pretty face of hers, I just knew I hadta get back no matter what, cause if I didn't, then I'd be letting this girl go for good, and that just wasn't gonna happen. Not if I had something to say about it! I picked her up and dragged us both back to this very hall. They say I passed out, but I still wouldn't let go of her. Been like that ever since." He brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of Ortena's hand gently, making her blush. Keyana childishly pretended to gag.

"To Jedrick and Ortena," Acalia announced, raising her glass to the couple. "We could ask for no better leaders."

"Here! Here!" the crowd echoed, clinking their glasses.

Ortena looked over to her sister, surprised to see her minding her claws as she too, raised her glass. A smile was about to grace her features when Keyana dropped the glass, allowing it to shatter on the floor.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was a strange kind of feeling, awkward and yet comforting at the same time. It didn't matter that he was still a good few paces from the dimly lit building; he simply knew that was where he would find his brother. The establishment looked much like a small barn, with doors that swung open at either half and a lower roof than the houses.

Peering through the window, Kharg first caught sight of the tall, white candle in the golden holder by the window. The winds from outside seeped in through the small cracks in the broken window, which looked ready to shatter if too much pressure were applied, and made the flame flicker and send shadows moving against the walls.

Then a figure moved, unhooking the latch that kept a wooden gate shut. Darc stepped through and sat himself down on the hay the animals there used for bedding. Small, long, white creatures roused from their sleep, stretching out their many arms before crawling around a bit, their short fur matted and sometimes retaining some stray pieces of hay from the floor. Beady black eyes turned to Darc, who simply crossed his legs and stared back, knowing better than to threaten the creatures.

Little by little they made their way toward the Deimos hybrid, sniffing at his skirt before testing to see if they could climb in him. A particularly daring one ascended right to his shoulder before scurrying up onto his head. With uncharacteristic softness, Darc

reached up and pet it, making no attempt to remove it from him at all. Another soon followed, contenting itself with curling up on his lap and returning to its interrupted sleep. A few others fought for his attention, butting both hand and claw with their heads in

communication of their desire to be pet.

Despite the warm moistness of his breathe, Kharg was breathing so shallowly that the window did not fog up at all. He continued to watch his brother like that for… he didn't even know how long. His expression remained confused and dazed until one of the small animals touched the tip of it's nose to Darc's affectionately, after which he smiled lightly. It was odd, but not all that shocking, to know that Darc could be like this…

… could care for something.


	8. Chapter 7: Retrieval

Unholy Order

By: Magenta Fox, the all-sexy goddess of your pants

Chapter 7: Retrieval

A/N: I'm so glad this story is getting so popular. Keep up the reviewing. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while. I think it might be shorter than the others, but we'll see.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"You want to what?" Ortena asked suddenly, halting her packing.

"I'm not saying you're weak or anything, I just don't like the fact that your entire party is Deimos, half-breeds or not," Jedrick explained, pacing back and forth.

"They're trusted allies. You have nothing to worry about." If Jedrick went along, too many things would be compromised.

"Well what about the fact that you left two months after we met, then I see you for two days and now you're leaving again? It's like you're tryin' to run from me or something…"

"You know that's not true, I just have a lot of stuff to deal with."

"Then why not let me deal with it with you?" he asked, grabbing both her hands between his when she went to try and pack again.

"It's…" she stumbled over a way to tell the truth without spilling too much. "It's really **really** complicated, Jedrick."

"And even if it wasn't the answer would still be no," another voice sounded from the open doorway. "I already have to watch my back enough on this trip as it is, I won't spend my nights worrying about backstabbing from _him_ as well."

"Yer killin' the mood here, Miss Bitchy," Jedrick snapped back.

"I'm going to kill more than the mood if you come with us," Keyana promised, crossing her arms.

"Neither of you are going to lay a finger on the other-" she paused, took a deep breath, and hoped she wasn't dooming herself. "-for the rest of this trip."

Jedrick grinned as Keyana's jaw dropped.

"Oh no no no, he is **not** coming. No way, no how."

"Then would you like to stay here while we leave?" Ortena offered. "I'm sure the bandits need something to be dinner tonight."

"You bitch…"

"Takes one to know one."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Fully bundled up in dark colored coats, the newly enlarged team watched as the doors to the Mount Fice bandit headquarters were pulled shut behind them. They silently trekked down the mountain, finding it much easier for a few reasons. First of all, they weren't fighting against gravity. Second, the weather was still cold, but the wind and snow had become much more mild. Lastly, Keyana was able to keep up for the most part. Whether this was due to rest or a need to not seem weak in the eyes of Jedrick, no one could tell. Most likely, it was a mix of both.

When the snow gave way to bronzed earth and the temperature began to rise, the group rid themselves of their heavy garments as Ortena and Jedrick became the only noise to break the silence.

"I didn't see Demetris there, is she still at the excavation site?"

"Yup. We can't get her to leave."

Ortena laughed, idly playing with her hair as she remember her mechanically-obsessed friend. "Sounds like she hasn't changed a bit."

"Well it's not like you were gone for five years or something," the bandit leader pointed out. He took her hand and smiled at her. "Just long enough for me to miss you."

"Oh be still my beating heart," Keyana mumbled sarcastically.

"Yes, some of us would like to keep our lunch down," Darc added.

"Hey, leave them alone," Kharg interjected. "If it bothers you then don't look."

"I bet his wife back home trained him to say things like that," Darc whispered to the Morkeeth walking beside him.

"For the last time, Paulette is not my-" And then he stopped, holding up his hand to motion that everyone else do the same. The bushes gave a slight rustle and he drew his sword. At the same time, Jedrick and Ortena were turning around to find they could feel something coming from the other directions as well. It seemed they were surrounded.

"Yollats," Keyana spoke up. "Be careful. They're not very strong but they're fast and they're poisonous."

Darc unsheathed his sword and Ortena unraveled her whip. Jedrick, on the other hand, pulled out what looked like a thick, metallic rods barely longer than his hand. With a flick of his wrist it extended to about the length of his arm, locking in place for the time being.

The rustling seemed to die down for a moment, leaving everyone on edge. Sensing something was wrong, Jedrick turned just in time to swing his right arm around and smack one of the furry black creatures back into the forest.

"If you can keep me from getting hurt I can wipe them out with one spell," Keyana told Darc, waiting for his agreement before she'd charge anything. Though powerful, her spells took a great deal of preparation and it left her vulnerable. One hit while she was in that intense state of concentration and she'd be KOed, making fighting solo next to impossible for her. Nodding, Darc stood in front of her and waited for something to come his way.

No one really expected an ambush like they received, streaks of black and spots of red eyes flew past them at blinding speeds, the grace of weapons completely forgot as they were swiftly and awkwardly swatted away.

"Taking your sweet time back there?" Darc asked, slicing what seemed like a flying black rat in half. Keyana had been silent and still for far too long, and he was beginning to question her usefulness in battle.

"May moonbeams light your path to damnation," Keyana finally chanted, what seemed like black thunder crackling through the air. "Hell's Gate!"

All at once the horde of speedy fur-balls burst into black dust as the fighters dropped their guard.

"Ortena!" Jedrick exclaimed, bringing the girl's arm up to inspect it. "You're bleeding."

"What? You idiot, how could you let one bite you?" Keyana yelled, shoving the much taller man aside in order to look at the wound herself. "Damn it, your blood's turning purple."

"Well, can't we cure it?" Kharg asked.

"Anyone have anything like that on them?" the Deimos woman responded, crimson eyes shifting from traveler to traveler. No one responded.

"Oh, this is peachy," Ortena spoke bitterly, wincing as the puncture began to sting.

"Which pack has the bandages in it?"

"Mine."

Without being asked, Darc began rummaging through the brown leather pack, pulling out the mess of sterile, white bandages that seemed to be stuck on something. After the ambush they had just received, he was ready to retaliate against the white creature that leapt onto his head. However, upon noting just what it was that had appeared from inside the bag (the bandages still wrapped around one of its hands), Darc reached up slowly and snatched the firble off of him.

"Fluffy?!" Ortena exclaimed, jumping up as if she'd never been wounded.

"You name them?" Jedrick wondered, arching an eyebrow. "And better yet, you named this one 'Fluffy?'"

"It was the fluffiest one. Oh, he must have snuck in when I went to say goodbye to all of them."

"Well I bet it'll make a smarter addition then Sir Dumbass," Keyana mentioned, motioning to the blue-clad bandit leader.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak," he shot back, holding up his weapons threateningly.

"And I don't remember caring."

"So Ortena, how's your arm?" Kharg asked loudly.

"Bleeding like you wouldn't believe," she responded, her voice mockingly chipper.

"Then we better hurry up. We need to get into the next town."

From birth, Ortena was paler than most people, but not too pale as to denote that she was ill. Therefore, when the poison began inching its way through her system, her body broke into a cold sweat and paled to the point where she looked like the walking dead. As a matter of fact, the limping dead, considering she was half supported by one of Jedrick's arms.

"Sweetie, maybe you should rest," Jedrick suggested, looking down at the veil of blonde hair covering her ashen face.

"Out of the question," Keyana spoke defiantly, not turning around from her position which was, strangely enough, at the head of the group.

"Listen you Hell banshee, if you think for one second that I'm-"

"Do you want her to die? No? Then you will drag her to the next town. Resting only gives the poison more time to set in."

"Since when do the likes of you care about what happens to humans?"

Ortena's head shot up and her half lidded eyes commanded her half sister's full attention. Not a single word escaped her blue-tinted lips, yet she was understood completely.

"Since I agreed to travel with one. Now pick her up and move your feet."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Unable to even limp alongside her beloved, Ortena was forced to resort to being carried like a lifeless rag doll, which, as she drifted in and out of consciousness, she was beginning to resemble more and more with each passing moment.

Keyana gritted her teeth nervously, viciously fighting back the onslaught of emotions crashing into her very being. It was already getting late, the setting sun casting a dull purple blanket over their surroundings and themselves, Ortena has slipping into her longest bout of unconsciousness yet.

"We'll stop here," she spoke up, illustrating her point by standing still as the group walked past her a few steps.

"What happened to 'resting only give the poison time to set in'?" Jedrick asked, mocking the Morkeeth in his impression.

"I'm going to heal her."

"Well shit, woman, why didn't you do that before?"

The pale bundle in his arms suddenly thrashed, hoarsely whispering "No," over and over.

"What's going on?" Darc asked, watching as Keyana's lips turned up into such a sneer that her fangs were bared.

"Don't listen to her," she ordered, ignoring the half Drakyr's question.

"N-n-not… no… I …" Ortena was breathing out erratically, futilely pushing against Jedrick's chest.

"We'll take shelter in that cave for the night, tomorrow we can get me treated."

"What do you mean 'get you treated'?" Kharg asked. However, he was ignored just as his brother had been.

The group followed her into a small cave up ahead of them. It actually seemed man-made, or at least not naturally formed with the way the light grey rocks were stacked on top of each other to form supporting pillars for the huge slabs that made a makeshift ceiling. All around them were walls of compacted dirt, which Darc soon used as a backrest when he allowed himself to fall into a sitting position against one of the sides.

"Lay her down and back away," Keyana commanded, taking a step toward the poisoned young woman. The bandit carrying her, however, obviously wasn't ready to trust her and he backed up a larger step then she took forward.

"Hold up there, missy. You're not gettin' near her unless I'm holding on," he told her outright, leaving no room for argument in his voice.

Keyana didn't care. She made room. "If you want her to live you will do as I say, you pathetic human!"

Realizing it was a matter of time before a massive fight erupted over how to treat Ortena, Kharg looked over to his brother, motioning his head silently toward Jedrick. Darc gave an affirming and not the two each grasped an arm and pulled their captive back.

"Damn it, you half-scum, get offa me!"

Ortena could tell from the look in Keyana's eye that her sister only had one way to calm the rash boy down, and that she was going to use it. Those her voice was failing her, she attempted to gasp out a few more pleas and found she could only mouth them. When the Morkeeth looked back to her she mustered every last bit of strength she had and shook her head once more.

It was then that Fluffy wormed its way out of her travel bag again, poking it's wet nose against her cold, paling skin. Her blank eyes shifted and brightened for a moment, wishing she had the strength to hold it in her arms during this trying moment. Sliding her eyes closed, she surrendered, giving a kind of choked gasp that would have been a sob, had she been able to.

"You _will_ sit there and be quite," Keyana snapped once more. Jedrick stopped his struggling, staring defiantly into her fiery red eyes before asking a question he didn't know he was going to regret.

"Yeah? And why should I?"

"Because my sister needs my help or else she's going to die!"

Though he went to give some sort of sharp retort, Jedrick was stopped abruptly by to realization of just what had been said to him. "Scuse me?"

"You heard me. Don't pretend that you didn't," she growled, shifting her position so that she was sitting on her ankles with her knees pointed toward Ortena's chest. "Now I'm going to draw the poison out of her body and into mine. It'll run through my system much slower than it runs through hers, but it doesn't give us all that much time."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? She ain't your sister you lyin' sacka -"

"Shut up before I break your arm off," Darc threatened in a low growl, his eyes seeming to say he was very ready to do just that.

Pressing her palms together, Keyana closed her eyes and concentrated. As she slowly pulled her hands apart an orange aura began to envelope the ailing blonde's body, sending a shimmering wave of energy into the growing space between those clawed hands. Once they had become shoulder length apart, she stopped, and Ortena's skin was already gaining back it's normal color.

"By the blood that joins us as sisters I do hereby accept the disease which has overtaken this body into my own. Exchange!"

And with that, the mass of orange, swirling energy seemed to send itself into Keyana's body, her skin instantly paling considerably, though she didn't seem to lose much strength.

"I hate you," Ortena mumbled from the floor of the cave, tilting her head to the side to see her beloved staring at her with wide eyes. "Jedrick, I'm sorry I nev-

"So it's true? You're one of _them_?" Sensing how his once-struggling body suddenly dropped its weight into their arms, Darc and Kharg let go and stepped back. "This… this _thing_ is your sister?"

"I didn't ask for any of it," she argued back, sitting up.

"You've been lying to be this whole time," he accused.

"I never once told you I was a full-blooded human and you never would have thought differently if Keyana hadn't opening her big, fat mouth."

"And how were you gonna hide those markings, huh?" Keyana asked, her voice weak but still annoyingly haughty. "Can't keep those things concealed forever."

"You've got markings?!" Jedrick screeched, sounding immature and almost feminine.

"Keyana shut the Hell up!"

"Geez, the thanks I get. Care to take this lovers' spat on the road before I kick the bucket?"

"No way, I'm going back to Fice. You're all a bunch of filthy-blooded mongrels to me," the bandit leader announced, quickly scrambling to his feet.

And before he could even take a single step to flee, the entrance to the cave was rained on by an avalanche of rocks, though there had been barely a tremble in the ground to trigger it. The cave was suddenly throwing into darkness.

"Wait just a minute there," a deep, yet feeble, voice spoke from behind the group. Ortena quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Oh no way," Keyana spoke up, her voice dripping with disbelief. "This isn't happening.

"I gettin' some light into this place," Jedrick decided, taking out his iron batons and striking them together. To everyone's surprise (with the exception of Ortena), they burst into flames and burned like torch, spreading light through the cave.

"I knew it," the Morkeeth immediately realized. "This is a Chronic cave."

"A what?" the rest of the group asked, staring at different times so that instead of a unified questions, it was a jumbled mess of words.

The figure before them looked strangely familiar to Darc and Kharg, the former especially. He had hair like Darc's, thinner due to his age but also very bright blonde in color. Its scales were blue and its horns were long, twists as they curved up and away from its face, which was a paler blue then the scales and wrinkled from time.

"You," the Deimos spoke, pointing at Darc. "You must be the boy I've been sensing all this time; Willowo's grandson."

"That's me," he admitted, trying to sound proud, "What of it?"

"Ah, that makes you my great grandson then."

"You mean we're not even just half breeds?" Kharg asked flatly.

"Wow, you must have really pissy human genetics that whooped some butt on every other type in you," Ortena realized.

"So must you then," Jedrick pointed out spitefully. Keyana resisted the urge to cast and 'Ashes to Ashes' spell and zombify him right then and there.

"What do you mean I'm your grandson?" Darc spat, sick and tired of people constantly weaseling their way into his life when he didn't want them too.

"Willowo was a good man who loved his people, but very much liked traveling." The old Chronic paced a bit as his spoke, his slow, unsteady gait showing his old age. "He found his way here once by accident, and the long trip by air had worn him out. He landed not far from what used to be our village, and we took him in until he got better. While he was here, he fell in love with my daughter, Howa, and had Windalf. They lived here happily for quite some time before Howa died during a Serifin raid not too long ago. How are your grandfather and father? I've been in this cave a number of years. Last I heard the terms were bad."

"They're dead, both of them," Darc spoke shortly. "Should you have been able to feel that, old man?"

"I can only feel what is on this island," the Chronic explained. "What about that human mother of yours?"

"She passed away as well," Kharg spoke up quickly. He didn't think he could handle hearing Darc disrespect his mother's death with that biting tone.

"Ah, you must have been that humanoid child." Jedrick began quietly pushing on the rocks obstructing the cave's exit. "And tell that boy I'll turn him back to the day he was born if he dare touch another rock."

He quickly backed away.

"Yes!" Keyana shouted. "You can turn back time, can't you? Reverse anything that's happened to the body with the exception of death."

"Well yes but-"

"I want my wings back," both she and Darc demanded in unison. Kharg felt oddly detached when he heard the order, as if something was pulling him away from the memories that should have flashed before him at the mentioning of wings.

"Well how long ago did you lose them?"

"About a two weeks ago," the Morkeeth answered before turning to Darc, who wouldn't make eye contact with her.

"About a year and a half ago."

"Never had wings," Ortena offered without being asked.

"It's sick that you even have to say that," Jedrick commented, leaning against the wall furthest from them. "Why don't you all just let me go and you can do your little sinful, homicidal activities without me?"

"Why don't you shove it up your ass and twist?" Keyana suggested.

"Just a year and a half?" the old Chronic laughed, slapping his knee and completely ignoring the verbal bashing going on before him. "You act as if you're worried, boy. But you need to know that this kind of magic effects everyone with Deimos blood. Does everyone in this room understand that they will be de-aged exactly one and one half of a year from this very point in time?"

"Well I've got nothing to worry about," Ortena spoke up. "Kharg?"

"Neither do I," he replied, fully believing himself to be right. He'd probably repressed that tragic day in Yewbell, and whether he'd once told Ortena of it or not, knowing what he was expected to say was enough to make him momentarily forget he'd ever sprouted wings. Also, Darc obviously lost his wings before Kharg did, and his ignorance to the effects of the spell meant he didn't understand that everything that the body undergoes is felt and kept over the shifting of time. Every scratch returns and stays, and its pain is felt again.

A sudden snapping of fingers brought everyone's attention back to the aged Deimos at the center of the cave. "Alright, it's done."

"Excuse me?" Keyana asked flatly.

"I don't feel any different," Ortena noticed, looking down at herself. "Exactly how long does it take for-" she was interrupted by a sharp slice of pain, and the wound on her hip reopened, staining her dress red.

Kharg fell to his knees, consumed by the rush of feelings suddenly coursing through him as a blinding pace. It wasn't just physical sensations, but emotional ones as well, flashing in quick bolts through his being before leaving, much unlike the physical aspects that remained part of him. It was then that realization struck him, and the pain began to shoot up his back like a stinging fire that pierced him brutally.

Keyana could feel the burning sensation as if she were experiencing the torment all over again. It passed quickly, but she had many physical and emotional pains left to endure. Ortena watched it all, fitting each wound into a timeline. Gigantic back wings shot out in clouds of ash, sores appeared on her wrists and ankles from the friction of the Serifins' chains and shackles, whip marks slashed across her wings, a punishment for keeping a secret from her father...

The cacophony of painful screams reverberated off the bare cave walls, making Jedrick wish he were deaf. He look at Ortena, observing how her skin was paling and she could no longer stand again as she shivered violently. He was almost sickened by his own feelings of regret and pangs of guilt, but he had to remind himself that _she _was the one who had lied to him, hiding her demonic blood. However, when he went to wipe his lips off at the thought of kissing her, he found himself touching them lightly, remember how nice it was as he watched her suffer. He didn't know what to think any more.

And then, without warning, it stopped.

Keyana noticed something else in addition to the comforting weight on her back. The poison creeping it way through her system was gone, and she stood up fully, testing her wings.

Kharg, on the other hand, looked paler than death, hunched over on his knees and hugging himself like some frightened child. Darc looked over in shock, wanting to ask something but he couldn't seem to figure out what.

"I didn't think it would happen to me," Kharg whispered, turning to the slightly wounded Ortena.

"Oh, Kharg," she spoke softly, kneeling down beside him. His bangs covered his face, casting an eerie sort of shadow; and no one expected him to snap the way he did.

The moment the sound of the stone blockade falling reached his ears, Kharg shoved the girl next to him roughly, knocking her back into the tall bandit leader before he sprinted out of the cave. The Chronic waved goodbye as the entire group followed him to a clearing with a path on one side and a cliff on the other.

He has his sword out, his body practically radiating with anger. "I cut them off once and I'll cut them off again," he professed, his voice so low and furious that even Darc recoiled a bit at the sound. The wings twitched as he grabbed hold of one, completely oblivious to his audience.

Darc was behind him in less than a second, kicking out his knees and gripping the tendon in his wrist that would make him release his hold on the sword. Taking the weapon in his own hand, Darc quickly set himself in front of his shaken brother, placing the tip of the well-crafted sword's blade just under that pale, slender neck.

"If you move I'll kill you," the Deimos hybrid stated flat out.

"I don't care," Kharg spat back, eyes seeming to gleam with shear anger. "I want them off."

"Why? So you can go back to the easy way of accepting what you are? I don't think so." Ortena took a step forward as Darc brought the sword up to a higher angle, but Keyana stopped her. "You're going to walk through every day for the rest of your life with people being able to tell you're a freak by looking at you. Maybe then you'll know what it's like."

"That's not your decision to make!" Ortena shouted.

"You don't understand," Kharg whispered darkly, though no one knew if it were to the female or male half-breed.

"You owe me this."

"I owe you nothing."

Pushing the sword forward, Darc nicked the soft flesh of his brother's neck, drawing a small droplet of blood. "You owe me a lifetime of suffering every day as a fugitive, a slave and a freak. You'll keep them." With that he threw the sword on the ground.

Breaking apart the uneasy tension that now saturated the air, Keyana suddenly ran forward and leapt off the edge of the cliff, gracefully curving back, away from anyone's field of vision before she soared into the sky. Her wings were a desperate contrast to the pale blues and faded whites above her; black, leathery and gigantic. They were enormous, nearly touching the ground when she stood and reaching to a little above her own head.

"That's your problem," Darc realized with a smug smirk, crossing his arms. "You don't understand what it's like to fly."

"I don't need to- h-HEY!" Kharg shouted as he was unexpectedly lifted off the ground and flown up above the canyon between the two cliffs. "Put me down, I'm in the mood for this right now."

"I frankly don't care," the other replied truthfully. "Now fly." And with that command, spoken as if merely issuing it would create the ability within Kharg, he let go of his hold and watched, waiting until he was sure that any lack of intervention would lead to certain death. Ignoring the livid shouts that met his ears, he repeated the process another two times, actually laughing at Kharg's reaction. Had he not been so infuriated, Kharg probably would have appreciated the rare sound.

Instead he was clumsily fumbling through the air, twisting and turning in an attempt to keep himself from becoming a large stain on the brown, dusty earth beneath him. It felt bizarre to have the additional muscles along his back, which he could feel all through himself. As much as he argued for Darc to stop, he still found himself being caught just as he was about to plummet to his doom.

"I'm not going to catch you this time," Darc warned him before dropping him again. He watched the retreating form of his brother, fairly confident that the fear should arouse something within Kharg. It was what their father had done, and it obviously worked. The seconds ticked by, however, and there was no sign of movement, save for Keyana, who couldn't seem to care any less as she flew off further in the distance. A pang of guilt and fear shot through him then, and he attempted to pear down into the darkness of the canyon.

A light, but still insistent tapping alerted him that someone was behind him. He didn't have time to register anything before Kharg brought his fist back and punched his brother across the face with all the strength in him, stumbling a bit in the air but keeping himself up all the same. "You could have killed me."

Despite the assault, Darc smiled. "But you're flying aren't you?"

Off in the distance, Keyana was simply keeping herself in place, high above the ground and close enough to the sun that she could feel its rays against her wings like a tight bandage of warmth. "I told you I'd let you see me fly," she told the sky, expression blank save for the slight glint of hope in her crimson eyes. "This is as close to you as I can get now, but I swear on my life that Hadrian will die for what he's done to us, and I do _not _care if it takes my own life to do so…"

(End Part 1) 


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